


Defiant

by Adolphus Longestaffe (adolphus_longestaffe)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Dialect, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, Young Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 64,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolphus_longestaffe/pseuds/Adolphus%20Longestaffe
Summary: Explicit tag applies to chapters 8 onward. Chapters 7 and earlier are mature in content, but do not contain  explicit sex.





	1. Set 'em up, knock 'em down.

Defiant. That was the word that had come foremost to mind when the commander had first sized up his new recruit. Scrappy, tough, fearless, resourceful, not excessively intelligent, and defiant. He’d decided right away that a strong hand would be needed to break this young thoroughbred to the harness, and his effort had been rewarded. He was now in possession of a soldier who was not only skilled and trustworthy, but who could be relied upon on to follow orders without question. His orders, to be specific. That defiant streak was too valuable to drill out of the boy altogether. Due to the extra-legal nature of their work, most of what they did had to be kept secret, even from the other branches of their own organization, and as such, the boy’s natural inclination to strain at the bit came in handy. The commander enjoyed seeing the boy resist any authority but his, skirting the line of outright insubordination with other superior officers, then coming instantly to heel at his call. He prided himself on his mastery of the willful youth, like a man who finds he is the only person who can tame a particularly spirited horse.

The boy was now his best agent and most useful asset. The boy in question answered to the name Jesse McCree. He was a tall, unruly-haired, nineteen-year-old former delinquent, with a dusty Texas drawl and an absolutely wicked trigger finger. It had been said that Jesse could shoot the fleas off a mule at a hundred yards, and his commander didn’t doubt it. The boy hadn’t proved to be as stupid as he’d initially thought, either. What he had taken for a slow wit was, in fact, Jesse's shrewd lack of interest in anything that wasn’t his business. This was also useful, given the not-strictly-sanctioned facets of their operations. The boy was proving to be a tactical prodigy as well, and more often than not, the commander found himself consulting with his subordinate when a particularly challenging task came up. In fact, the two were together nearly all of the time now. It had become a common joke that if you wanted to find the commander, you should be looking for Jesse. He was an obvious favorite, and while people certainly noticed, they prudently avoided terms like lapdog and pet. This was partially from respect for the boy, who had already earned a great deal, and partially from fear of the commander, whose slow-burning wrath was the kind that men rightly avoid kindling.

The singular respect for the young man among the agency’s personnel had been well-earned. Jesse was no child. He had lived outside the law without responsible adult supervision since the age of twelve. He was well on his way to prison or a bullet between the eyes when he was captured in a raid and detained by the commander's organization. He was given two options: arrest and trial (as a legal adult, now that he was eighteen), or join their covert paramilitary agency and turn his life around. To Jesse, prison would have been a worse fate than death. Even at that tender age, he certainly had the fortitude to put his revolver in his mouth before he’d consent to life in a cage. So, given the choice between eating his gun and joining this secret team of international spies, he chose the latter. Of course, the commander had no intention of allowing him to do otherwise, which was made clear by the fact that Jesse was not offered this choice until he’d been safely deposited within the agency’s walls.

The commander was immensely proud of his young protégé and everyone was fully aware of that fact, except for Jesse. His perspective on the situation was somewhat different. At first, the commander had been relentlessly strict, almost to the point of cruelty, rarely showing approval when he performed well, and disciplining infractions ruthlessly. But, as Jesse improved and showed himself to be tenacious and uncomplaining under the lash, the commander had gradually eased his grip on the reins. The man grew to respect the boy’s judgement and value his expertise, and the two had developed a more comfortable rapport. And though the commander still had little patience for error, he was more inclined now to make exceptions for youthful impetuosity, and to excuse what he called “lip” from the boy.

Jesse respected and admired Commander Reyes almost to the point of hero worship, but he was equally terrified of the man. Jesse had been brought up in a hard school and he knew a dangerous man when he saw one. He was afraid of the commander in a way he hadn’t been of anyone, not even the most violent criminals with whom he’d associated. With them, he’d seen through the bluff and bluster to the core of base cowardice which guided their actions. The commander was different. He had no fear. He was a man who killed without hesitation or remorse and fully expected to be killed the same way at any time. His almost absurd lack of instinct for self-preservation was what made him such a formidable combatant, but it also placed him and those with whom he worked in danger. Jesse had risked his own life saving the commander on two separate occasions in the eighteen months he’d worked for him. He thought of his commander as a man who was looking for death, and he took it upon himself as his duty to make sure the man didn’t find it. He didn’t ask himself why, he simply accepted it as a part of the job: keep your mouth shut, obey orders, and keep Commander Reyes alive.

All in all, Jesse was very satisfied with his new life, and he had found something in it that he had never experienced before. It was a sense of purpose outside himself and his daily survival. A reason to fight. He was one of the good guys now, and he found he liked it. Keeping the weak and the innocent safe by doing the hard things that other people were unable or unwilling to do. He didn’t want public recognition for it, it was enough to know he was making amends for the wrongs he’d done. The only approval he sought was that of the commander, and he thirsted for it like a man crawling through a burning desert thirsts for water. The rare, “Good work,” or “Ok, mijo,” from the commander was enough to sustain Jesse for days. Particularly the latter, which was a diminutive term of affection he had never heard the man use with anyone else. He treasured up these little life-sustaining crumbs and clung to them when the commander was in an unpleasant humor, or had been particularly severe with him regarding some little mistake or other, which Jesse was still prone to in his inexperience.

What Jesse didn’t quite comprehend was that what he really wanted was for the man to love him. Jesse had never had any father to speak of. He had been orphaned by the loss of his mother at an early age and cast upon the world to survive by his wits alone, with no one to care whether he lived or died. For all intents and purposes, the commander had adopted him. Rescued him from misery and solitary struggle, and given him a new life and an occupation he could be proud of. Jesse loved the man with his whole young heart and would be loyal to him to the point of death. Which, of course, everyone knew except for the man himself. He still thought of the boy as a delinquent who was under control for the moment, but in danger of regressing to a life of crime and waste if not constantly watched. This was part of the reason he was inclined to be so hard on the boy. The other part, we will come to later.

We take up the thread of our narrative on a bitterly cold night in late March, when Jesse and the commander were engaged in such clandestine activities as we have referred to previously. Their objective was an elimination and retrieval. Elimination of a high-value target and his accompanying personnel, and retrieval of the asset said target and personnel were transporting. The two went alone, heavily armed and lightly armored, staked out a sniping position, and waited. Sometimes they waited for hours, other times for days. Jesse was well-suited to these arduous assignments. He had grown accustomed to cold and discomfort in his former life, and it never occurred to him to complain. Not that he would have risked the commander’s ire by doing so, but he didn’t really feel it the way someone else would have. He was happiest this way, at his commander’s side, just the two of them out in the field on some dangerous errand where their very lives depended on each other. It almost felt like friendship.

The commander had his eye in the scope of a Barrett M82 anti-materiel rifle, and Jesse was spotting for him through a pair of range-finding binoculars. They had positioned themselves on a bridge to await the target, and the street below had been liberally mined. Sitting beside them on a drab-green cloth were a couple of assault rifles, a case of grenades, and the commander’s double-barreled shotguns, in case the mines and the Barrett didn’t do the trick (which they almost certainly would).

“Last chance, boss,” Jesse said, keeping his binoculars trained on the kill-zone. “You sure you don’t want me to take the shot?”

The commander eyed him irritably, then seeing the sly grin on the boy’s face, he gave a snort and returned to his own scope.

“I’m taking this one,” he said. “If you’re very good, maybe I’ll let you have the next one.”

“Your call, boss. Just don’t come cryin’ to me when you shoot wild and the target gets away.”

“You’re not the only crack shot in the world, pendejo. Shut your mouth and keep your eye on the choke point.”

“I can talk and scout at the same time, boss.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Say, you think you could hit one of them pigeons?”

“With an anti-materiel rifle? Yeah, I could probably hit one. It’d probably take out five or six at once. But then we’d have to explain to Morrison why we were hunting fowl instead of shooting Russians.”

“You ever been hunting, boss?”

“No.”

“You want to?”

“Boy, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I never been hunting,” Jesse said, making a slight adjustment to the focus of his lenses. “I mean, not hunting proper. I had to shoot some squirrels and things when I was hard up for food, but I never shot a deer or anything.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“What, squirrel? It ain’t that bad when you get used to it. Only they’re so little you’ve got to try and get a whole mess of ‘em if you want to have enough for a meal.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jesse.”

“What?”

“I can’t decide if you tell me these stories to make me pity you or make me sick to my stomach.”

“Little bit of both, I guess,” the boy grinned. “It workin'?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Jesse chuckled and scanned the target field of movement again. A few minutes passed in silence, then he resumed.

“So, you want to go hunting?”

“Do I want to go hunting?” the commander said dubiously.

“Yeah, you know. With tents and rifles and campfires and all that.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” the man said. “If you can keep your mouth shut for a full five minutes, I’ll take you hunting.”

The boy lit up like a Christmas tree. He stared wide-eyed at his commander until the man looked at him.

“You mean it, boss?” he almost whispered.

“Jesus Christ,” the man sighed. “Yeah, ok. I mean it.”

“Swear to god?” 

“Jesse, if you don’t—” 

“Ok, ok, I’m shutting up. Time me. Remember you promised.”

“Yes. Now shut up.”

After about three minutes had passed, the commander felt a strong tug on his shoulder and turned to Jesse, who was in a state of intense agitation.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, son?” he said.

Jesse shook the binoculars violently and tapped the rifle, but kept his mouth resolutely shut. The commander looked through his rifle's scope and almost laughed out loud. Sure enough, the target was approaching the kill-zone, but Jesse was so determined to earn his hunting trip, that he had actually jeopardized the mission in order to keep his mouth shut. The man would have been furious with anyone else, but the boy’s good-natured simplicity had an irresistible way of disarming him when he was most likely to fly off the handle. Instead, he smiled, lined up his sights, and accomplished the first objective of the mission. It was a beautiful shot. Jesse was in fits to remark on it, but he made certain to let the time run out, plus a few seconds just to be safe, before bursting out in hearty admiration.

“Holy shit, boss,” he said at last. “I never saw such a pretty shot. Sorry son of a bitch never knew what hit him. That’s one for the record books.”

The commander’s response was drowned out by the detonation of the mines below, which completed the remainder of the elimination part of the operation. The two hopped down from their perch, weapons in hand, and rapidly conned the area. Seeing that all was clear, they searched the vehicle and retrieved a heavy, cipher-locked steel box the size of a brief case. They inspected it carefully, confirming that it was the correct package, then returned to their spot to pack up their gear. They didn’t know what was inside the case and they didn’t care. All that mattered was that it was the target package, they had retrieved it, and now they could return to the base with another very clean, very quick success to their credit.

When they strapped into their seats on the extraction chopper, Jesse was absolutely glowing. They hadn’t been in the air above a minute when he said, “So, when do you want to go?”

“What do you mean,” the man said. “Go where?”

“Oh, come on, boss, don’t do that to me. You’re like to kill me that way. You and me, we’re goin' hunting.”

The man sighed heavily. “Jesse…” he began.

Jesse made his eyes as big and round as possible. “Boss, you promised,” he said gravely, holding the man’s gaze with his. “A promise is a promise, no matter what.”

The man smiled perforce at the moon-faced earnestness of the boy. He could probably get out of it somehow, but what was he, a monster? How could he break that ridiculous little heart? Though the very idea of hunting animals and sleeping in a tent in the woods was utterly repellent to him. Maybe the boy would be contented with a cabin that had electric heat and a coffee maker.

“Ok, Jesse,” he said. “I promised. I’ll take you hunting. But I’ll be damned if I’m sleeping in a tent on the ground. There have to be proper hunting lodges somewhere. Maybe in Germany or something.”

“That don’t matter so much to me, boss,” Jesse said, beside himself with delight. “Only I figured that was the way folks do that kind of thing. It’ll be so much fun, you’ll see. Even if we do have to sleep indoors and whatnot.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” the commander said. “We still have to wait till the weather warms up.”

“That’s alright, boss,” Jesse said. “I don’t mind waiting. That’ll give us time to pick out the perfect spot and get together some hunting gear and such like. I wonder if there’s still anywhere that sells deer urine…”

“Ok, Jesse, but that's all up to you. I don’t want to be bothered with a lot of decisions. You pick a place and I’ll find us accommodations.”

“I won’t bother you about it boss, I promise. Only you have to let me know when so I can request leave and save up my—”

The commander cut him off. “No. No talk about money. I told you I’d take you and I won’t listen to a word about you paying for yourself, so don’t start. We’ll plan to go in May or June. Now shut the fuck up so I can get some rest.”

“You got it, boss. Thank you, boss.”

The man gazed at the boy for a moment, then leaned his head back and shut his eyes. He was apparently resting, but was actually engaged in a strenuous internal debate. Why had he allowed the boy to charm him into this stupid plan. Hunting? And hunting with a coworker? A subordinate even! The idea was absurd. Half of him wanted to push the boy away. Put him back in his proper place at a respectful, professional distance. What was he thinking, allowing this insolent teenaged criminal to become so familiar with him? He knew the answer, of course, but he utterly refused to admit it to himself. He couldn’t even dare to let the vague inkling germinate into a complete thought. That way lay madness. Instead, he became gruff and irritable and stringently exacting.

For the following few days, Jesse could do nothing right and nothing pleased the commander. He didn’t compliment the boy on the perfect score he achieved on his marksmanship qualification that week (a first for the entire organization), nor did he mention the extra care and precision with which his daily briefings were prepared and arranged on his desk each morning. He berated him for talking too much, remarked negatively on the length of his hair (though there were no standard regulations for such things in their agency), and was generally unpleasant to be around. Jesse was quiet and efficient, and at the end of each day, he escaped hastily from the commander’s crushing presence.

Late in the evening, on the fifth or sixth day after their successful extraction, the commander had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a timid knock at his door. He opened it, and didn’t disguise his annoyance at finding the boy standing in the hall.

“Jesse,” he said impatiently, “what is it?”

“I’m real sorry, boss,” Jesse said. “I’d never bother you like this, but Commander Morrison wanted me to bring you this thing and he told me to wait for a response.”

He sheepishly held out a manila envelope to the commander. The man took it and walked into the dining room, not asking the boy to enter, but leaving the door open for him to do so. Jesse came in and shut the door softly, then stood waiting and attempting to make himself as invisible as possible. The result was that he squirmed a good deal, which the man found distracting, then amusing, then he laughed outright.

“Don’t stand there by the door like a butler, son,” he said. “Come sit down.”

The boy glided silently to the table and sat stiffly on the edge of a chair. He’d never been inside the commander’s quarters before. It was a fairly standard set of rooms and not very lavish in its furnishings, but there was something terrible and awe-inspiring to him about the place. Like being in a big fancy church or a lion’s den. The man pulled the document from the envelope and flipped through the numerous pages.

“There’s coffee on in the kitchen,” he said. “Why don’t you get us a cup. This looks like a pretty long read.”

Jesse disappeared into the kitchen and the man went to work on the densely packed type. He returned with two mugs and sat down again. It was clear that the contents of the communication were not to the commander’s liking. His expression grew blacker as he read. His brow knit and his nostrils began to flare, and by the time he’d finished reading, he was on the verge of an explosion.

“That fucking motherfucker,” he snarled. “The absolute nerve. That fucking condescending...fuck. I’m going to respond, alright. I’m going in person.”

He jumped up from the table and went to his bedroom to dress. Jesse stood up and looked about awkwardly, uncertain what to do. The commander assisted him.

“Don’t you go anywhere,” he called out down the hall. “You’re coming with me. I want to you there as a witness.”

“Yes sir,” the boy called back. “But I don’t think I’m supposed to know whatever this is all about.”

The man reappeared in his usual civilian clothing, a black t-shirt, heavy, grey hooded jacket, and black jeans. He sat to pull on his boots.

“I say you’re supposed to know and you work for me, so that’s that,” he said. “They’re claiming we fucked up the retrieval. They say we attacked the wrong target and brought back the wrong package.”

Jesse was instantly transformed. He stood up to his full six feet. His eyes snapped with indignation and the muscles in his jaw clenched. He was suddenly a very fierce, very handsome young man. The dramatic change in the familiar face gave the commander pause. Maybe he’d been underestimating his young charge.

“I’ll be damned if we fucked it up,” he said. “How dare they make such an accusation. You’re sure as shit I’m a witness. I’m bein' accused, too.”

He took the file without asking permission and scanned the first few pages. Then he sat down and read the rest. He looked up keenly into the man’s eyes.

“Boss,” he said breathlessly. “It’s a setup.”

“A setup,” the commander said. “What do you mean?”

“We’re being set up to take a fall here for some reason.” He held up the document. “This whole thing is a hatchet job sure as I’ve ever seen one.”

“What makes you say that,” the man said, not in a tone of argument, but appearing to be genuinely interested in the boy’s analysis. “Morrison has dressed us down in memos before.”

“This one ain’t his usual writing, boss. The language is all wrong. You ever hear him use words like 'incompetence' and 'negligence' before? As much as you two like to get under each other’s skin, he ever accuse you of outright neglect of duty?”

“No, never,” the man said, staring at the boy. “You’re right.”

“And here,” Jesse said, turning the page and indicating a paragraph. “You see anything fishy about the description of the target?”

The commander read the paragraph carefully. In his immediate rage at the accusation, he’d overlooked some of the finer details. Lucky the boy had kept a cool head, or that error may have cost him dearly. He was impressed and wanted to say so, but he held back, unable to allow himself the luxury of saying a kind word to his friend. Not yet.

“Jesse, do you have a copy of the initial orders? A hard copy?”

The boy took his meaning immediately. “Yes, sir I do. I keep hard copies of all our orders, for just such an occasion.”

“Where?”

“Locked up in a safe in my room, sir,” Jesse grinned.

“Good work, mijo,” the commander said. “You may have just saved our asses. Run and get the copy as fast as you can, and come straight back here.”

“On it, boss,” the boy said and departed swiftly, glowing with the compliment.

He returned in a very few minutes with his copy of the orders and another, freshly printed from the agency’s database. The two pored over the documents, comparing them for differences and marking discrepancies with a red pen, which Jesse had also brought. After a half an hour’s assiduous labor, they were ready. They marched into Commander Morrison’s office, prepared to present their case in detail.


	2. Cui bono?

The door to Commander Morrison’s office was open, and his single light shone out into the otherwise dim, deserted hallway. Though it was nearly one in the morning, he was still at work, as usual. The commander seemed to possess an inexhaustible well of energy for work. He attacked every task with the same vigorous intensity, from planning tactical strikes, to deciding what kind of hand soap to order for the latrines. He never appeared to be fatigued and even the most tedious administrative drudgeries did not tax his unflappable patience. He was unlike many other men possessed of such a driven nature, however, in that he was aware that his tirelessness did not necessarily translate to his staff. No matter how late he intended to remain, he considerately dismissed them each day at the standard quitting time. The result was that he often worked alone, surrounded by empty desks and darkened offices, well into the small hours of the morning.

He looked up as his two agents entered, and although they were both subordinates, he courteously rose to receive them, as one does when receiving visitors of equal rank to oneself. Commander Reyes saw immediately that it would have been a grievous error to confront his superior in anger, rushing into the situation guns blazing, as he had almost done. Morrison was not displeased to see them and, in fact, appeared to have been expecting them at any moment.

“Commander Reyes. Jesse.” He nodded his greeting as he addressed them, motioning for them to sit. “What can I do for you?”

Jesse placed the files on the desk, then receded to an appropriate sideline, allowing his commander to open their case with his own superior without impertinent assistance from him. Commander Morrison took the files and began to scan through them as Reyes gave a brief summary of what they’d found, making sure to attribute the discovery to Jesse’s keen eye. Morrison was as impressed with the boy’s vigilance as his own commander had been.

“This is good work, son,” he said, after he’d been through both documents. “Commander Reyes is lucky to have you on his team. You might just be the reason there’s still a team to be on, after this.” He turned to Reyes. “What do you think?”

“I haven’t had time to think much about it yet,” the man said. “To be honest, Jack, I didn’t expect you to jump to our side like this. I came in here prepared for a fight.”

“Gabe, what the fuck, man?” the other commander said, looking genuinely pained.

He had reflexively dropped into a manner of address so intimate and informal, that Jesse’s eyes were suddenly opened to an entirely different picture of the relationship between the two commanders. He had seen these men at each other’s throats almost daily, but what he had taken for actual hostility now appeared to him to be nothing more than the tone the two old comrades had adopted in their frequent disagreements with one another.

“How could you say that?” Morrison continued. “When have I ever failed to take your side?”

“But you wrote this hatchet job about the mission,” Reyes said, using the boy’s term. “What was I supposed to think?”

“I didn’t write a word of it, not initially. It was sent down to me from corporate HQ, already written and with orders to sign it and deliver it to you. I read it, though. Very thoroughly. And I made a few minor changes, all of which were approved by HQ.”

“What changes?” Reyes asked.

“I altered the language to be more severe,” Morrison said evenly, “and I increased the penalty from formal reprimand to formal reprimand and suspension of the entire department, which includes you and the kid, pending investigation of the incident.”

Much to Jesse’s confusion, Reyes smiled.

“Thank you, Jack,” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” his friend replied. “Someone is gunning for you. I just hope I can give you enough cover to work from. Any ideas?”

Reyes shook his head. “Aside from the obvious, that it’s from inside the agency, we’re flying blind for the moment.”

Jesse muttered something under his breath and immediately regretted it, as both his superiors turned and fixed their attention on him.

“What was that, son?” Morrison said.

“I just…I said cui bono, is all,” Jesse replied, flushing crimson.

The commanders blinked at him.

“It’s Latin, sirs,” he explained apologetically. “It—it means ‘for whose benefit.’ It’s stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not stupid at all,” Morrison said. “Gabe, I think this boy deserves a raise. You’re exactly right, Jesse. That’s the question we need to start with. Who stands to gain from taking you down?”

The three men stared blankly at each other for a moment.

“I guess that’s what we’re going to find out,” Reyes said. “But we’re not getting anywhere sitting here holding our dicks. Let’s all get some sleep and attack this thing with clear heads in the morning.”

“Agreed,” Morrison said. He stood up and came around to the front of the desk. “Alright then. Gabriel Reyes, Jesse McCree, you are hereby formally reprimanded and suspended without pay until further notice, pending investigation of the Vladivostok incident. Now go get ‘em.”

Morrison put out his hand. Reyes took it and shook it heartily, then turned to go, but his friend stopped him.

“One more thing, Gabe,” he said. “Your operations are black-book now, so you’ll have to fund everything from your own pocket till this is all cleared up. That ok?”

“Yeah,” Reyes replied. “That’ll be fine. But I may have to borrow a lift when no one’s looking.”

“I’ll see if I can’t convince some of the hangar guards to develop severe cases of nearsightedness.”

Morrison grinned and the two men shook hands again, then Jesse and his commander took their leave. The boy followed the man to the elevator in silence, apparently employing all his mental energy in processing a large quantity of data. But his commander, who absolutely throve under adversity, was in a jocular mood.

“You sneaky motherfucker,” he said, clapping his hand on the boy’s shoulder and shaking him hard.

The boy jumped and looked terrified, which made the man laugh.

“Where the fuck have you been hiding that big brain of yours?” he said. “Under that idiotic hat?”

The boy’s anxious expression shifted to one of relief.

“So you ain’t mad?” he said, grinning sheepishly.

“Mad?” the commander exclaimed. “Mad? Boy, I could kiss you.”

Jesse blushed to the ears and stammered, “But…but not really, right?”

The man arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“There’s the idiot I know,” he said. “Glad to see you’re back to normal. No, of course not really. Why would you even ask a thing like that?”

“I—I don’t know, sir. It’s just—it’s hard to tell when you’re being serious sometimes. You always look so…serious.”

The commander eyed him sharply. The boy wasn’t as stupid as he appeared to be. In fact, he was clearly much more intelligent than he let on. So was this genuine confusion, or was it a subtle jab? Certain rumors had dogged his career in the army. He hadn’t thought they’d followed him here, but it was possible. The idea put him immediately on the defensive.

“Why, cupcake?” he sneered. “You hoping I would?”

The boy flushed even redder and looked miserably at the floor. The man was immediately remorseful.

“Come on, son,” he said, resuming his railing tone. “Can’t you take a little joke like that?”

He shook the boy and clapped him on the back again. The boy laughed nervously and attempted to appear at ease.

“Look, Jesse, I’m sorry for busting your balls. I should be thanking you. You pulled my ass out of two fires tonight.”

“I did, boss?”

“Sure did. I was going there to pick a fight with Morrison over the suspension, which would have riled him up, and then we may not have gotten his help so readily. Not to mention you found the discrepancies in the altered orders in the first place, and you were ready with the hard copy. So, thank you. Is there anything I can do for you? Now’s your chance.” He grinned, “No telling when I’ll be in such a good mood again.”

“Well, sir,” the boy said, “I wanted to ask you somethin’. When Morrison said we were suspended without pay, and then you said you’d fund the operation yourself…”

“Ah, that,” the man interrupted. “Don’t worry. That includes your salary as well. You won’t miss a single penny.”

“Oh,” the boy said blankly. Apparently that hadn’t been his concern. “Thank you, sir. That’s very kind. But if I’m allowed to ask… How exactly are you going to fund the operation from your own pocket? I mean the costs gotta be in the tens of thousands.”

“Hundreds,” Reyes said unconcernedly. “It makes very little difference to me.”

Jesse was mystified and showed it.

“Look, son, this isn’t something I like to advertise, so don’t go shooting your mouth off,” the man said. “I don’t do what I do for the money. In fact, I have never worked a single day out of necessity. My family was wealthy. My parents left a considerable fortune when they passed, and I am the sole heir and controller. A literally obscene amount of money. I could fund the entire agency myself, if it came to that. For a little while, at least. So don’t you worry about funding, ok? It won’t hurt me any.”

Jesse stared into the middle distance as they walked, apparently lost in thought again. When they arrived at the commander’s quarters, the man observed that the boy’s face had taken on a rather doleful expression. He opened the door and allowed him to enter first. The boy gave a heavy sigh and slumped into a dining room chair, where he sat poking his finger into the cold coffee in one of the mugs.

“What is it, son?” Reyes asked, taking away the mug.

“Well, boss,” Jesse said with another sorrowful little sigh. “This is a big wet blanket on our hunting trip, ain’t it.”

“Like fuck it is,” the man said grimly. “We’ll go on that hunting trip, hell or high water. I promised, didn’t I? No secret conspiracy to discredit and destroy us is going to stop me from fulfilling a promise.”

“You mean it, boss?”

“I mean it,” the man said, looking gravely down at his compatriot.

Jesse appeared to be satisfied and cheered up again. The commander took both mugs to the kitchen and put them in the sink, then opened the cupboard. He stared into it for a moment, doubt and indecision playing across his severe features. One thought apparently won out, and he returned to the table with a couple of highball glasses.

“What say we have a drink to celebrate our suspension,” he said, going to an oak cabinet and producing a bottle of whiskey.

“Well, boss, it ain’t like I haven’t had plenty of liquor in my time, but I am only nineteen,” Jesse said. He grinned and lifted his glass. “I wouldn’t want you to be party to any illegal activity.”

“Mierda,” the man said filling the glass. “Legal drinking age be damned. You’re a soldier. That’s good enough for me.”

The boy took a hefty swig and made a little grimace as he swallowed it.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” he said. “What is it?”

“That’s Yamazaki 18-year-old single-malt. I picked up a couple cases in Japan a few years back. Careful, though. It’s as smooth as a velvet glove, but there’s an iron fist in there.”

“I reckon I can hold my liquor pretty well, boss,” Jesse said, putting on an air of manly staunchness that tickled his commander immensely.

The boy had made him laugh at least three times today. A rarity, to say the least. He sat across from his young charge and tasted his own whiskey, savoring it slowly and turning the glass in his hand to admire the golden liquid under the bright dining room light.

“Tell me something, Jesse,” he said. “You’re obviously as smart as a whip, so why do you hide it?”

“I am, boss?”

“You know you are.”

“I guess…I guess I do know it,” Jesse said slowly. “Or I think I know it. But I spent my whole life being told how stupid I was by the dumbest sons of bitches ever to disgrace god’s earth. It took me a long time to figure out it was all them that was stupid, not me. By then I knew enough to know that when folks supposed I was stupid, it didn’t do me no good to teach them otherwise. It’s like playing with an ace up your sleeve. It don’t help if everyone knows about it, and it makes them mad into the bargain.”

“Why do people assume you’re stupid in the first place?”

“Well, I reckon with the outlaw kind, it was mainly on account of them not understanding how I thought about things, and taking that for my mind being dull. With you people, I think it’s mostly on account of my way of talking. Y’all hear my accent and the way I put words together different and get it all tangled up with a notion of old-timey ignorance that ain’t exactly accurate.”

The man was amazed. He didn’t know what kind of answer he’d expected, but it hadn’t been that. This was an entirely new side to the teenaged cowboy who, apparently, he had misjudged entirely.

“So you’re saying we’re the ones who are stupid,” he said. “For assuming you fit a broad stereotype because we’re comfortable with it.”

The boy smiled slyly. “Well, sir, if the boot fits…”

“Alright, you cocky little fuck,” the man laughed. “Don’t get too big for your britches.”

“I was just foolin’ with you, boss,” the boy said, joining in the laugh. “But you must’ve had the same kinda thing happen to you.”

“People assuming I’m stupid?”

“People assuming all sorts of things about you on account of what they see on the outside.”

“What do people see on my outside?”

“Well,” the boy said, looking the man over, “you’re a big-ass Mexican dude, and that’s enough to scare a lot of white folks by itself.”

“You’re not wrong,” Reyes said, taking another deep draught of his whiskey.

“Plus, you look like more than half a criminal, with those scars and all your black clothes, so I’m sure that doesn’t help.”

“Right again,” the man replied.

Thus encouraged, the the boy continued, “But to me, you look like someone who’s been hurt bad and is trying real hard to keep people away so that—” then he stopped short, flushing with embarrassment, and stammered a half-audible apology into his glass, which he then drained at one go.

“Whoa, son,” the man said. “Slow down! That stuff will punch you in the gut, I’m serious. And don’t apologize for telling things as you see them. I’m not offended by honesty.”

“I think you might be,” Jesse said under his breath.

The commander ignored the remark and returned to the topic at issue.

“So you think I’ve been hurt, do you?” he said. “Well, you’re not wrong about that either. My whole family, mother, father, sisters and brothers, all seven of them, were killed all at once in a train wreck. I survived. Just me. Twelve years old and all alone in the world.” He touched the right side of his face. “These scars are my daily reminder. They’re all I have left of my family.”

“You’re…an orphan too, boss?” Jesse's large brown eyes clouded with empathy and shared grief as he gazed up at his mentor.

“I am,” the man said steadily. “That’s part of the reason I took you on. I couldn’t let you rot in prison because fate robbed you of the people who were supposed to protect you and threw you out into the streets with nothing but your wits and dumb luck to decide what became of you.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me before?”

The man turned his head to avoid the boy’s eye. His brow knit and his jaw clenched as if with physical pain.

The boy nodded. “I see,” he said. “You been tryin’ to keep me away, too. Well, too fuckin’ bad. We’re in this together now, boss. And like it or not, I’m—I’m your friend.”

“I don’t have friends,” Reyes said.

“Well you do now,” Jesse shot back defiantly. “You’ve got me. And you’re forgetting Commander Morrison. The two of you are friends.”

“Jack is… the situation is more complicated than that. But yes, Jack is my friend.” He looked up at the boy and smiled. “And I suppose you are too, now, you pain in the ass.”

“Damn straight I’m a pain in the ass. That’s why you like me. I keep you on your toes.”

“Who says I like you?” the man said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Ha! Too late for that, boss,” the boy laughed triumphantly. “I already know you do! You like me!”

He refilled his glass and sat sipping contentedly at the whiskey, beaming like a cat full of cream. His ridiculous, innocent, beautiful face, all lit up with self-satisfaction that way was almost too much for the man to take. He felt that vague, lowering sense of agitation coming on again. The feeling that made him irascible and unkind, and prompted him to treat the boy harshly. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He didn’t want hurt the boy by suddenly growing thorns after all this friendliness, but he didn’t want to send him away, either. Maybe he could control his violent temper and attempt to be pleasant in spite of his own misery. The idea had never occurred to him before. He could do that. He could swallow his pain and be agreeable for the boy’s benefit. He smiled a strained, ghastly smile that made the boy ask him if he was getting sick.

“No, I’m just tired and there’s a lot on my mind. I think I’ll lie down on the sofa, if you want to come in there and talk to me.”

“Boss,” Jesse said, with a theatrical pantomime of astonishment. “Are you saying you actually want me to…talk?”

“I already regret it,” Reyes said, flopping down onto the sofa and covering his face with a pillow.

“That’s between you and the good lord, boss,” the boy said gleefully. “Boy howdy, how I’ve waited for this day.”

He grabbed his glass and the bottle of whiskey and deposited himself on the floor in front of the sofa, rather than in the easy chair across the room, as any other adult human would have done.

“Boy, are you completely feral, or what?” the commander said, uncovering his face. “Why don’t you sit in the chair?”

“Well this way you can hear me better,” Jesse replied innocently.

“Hijo de puta,” the man groaned. “What have I done?”

“And I can poke you if you start to doze off.”

“You poke me and I’ll break your fucking finger, cabrón. Just try it.”

“Alright, alright. No need to get ornery. Where to begin. Let’s see. Did I ever tell you about the time I found a family of raccoons livin’ in the garage where the gang had their bikes and things?”

“No,” the man said flatly.

He shut his eyes and listened helplessly as Jesse illustrated his tale, which indeed turned out to be more amusing than the man liked to admit. The boy went on to recount several other such anecdotes at length, beginning each one with, “Did I ever tell you,” until his commander was driven almost to distraction.

“Jesse,” he said. “Stop asking if you ever told me. The answer is always going to be no. No, you never told me.”

“I bet you’re wrong,” the boy retorted. “Did I ever tell you about the time I found a family of raccoons livin’ in the garage where the gang had their bikes and things?”

The man sighed wearily and lay silent for a while. Then, to his utter disbelief, he felt a little jab at his ribs. The boy had actually poked him. His eyes snapped open and shot fire. He arrested the offending hand in his iron grip and sat bolt upright.

“You impudent little fuck,” he exclaimed. “You fucking poked me!”

“Ow, ow, boss, I’m sorry,” Jesse yelped through a fit of laughter. “I didn’t mean to injure your delicate—ow! My wrist!”

The man had twisted his wrist firmly, but with no real intention of causing harm, and the boy’s exclamations of pain had been put on for his own amusement. He was rapidly becoming genuinely afraid, though. He’d never dared to be so familiar with his terrifying commander, and he’d certainly never invaded his personal space before. The commander was alert to the subtle shift in his young friend’s expression, however, and loosed his grasp.

“There’s more where that came from, pendejo,” he said. “Don’t try to take on the big dog while you’re still just a pup.”

He reached out and roughed up the boy’s hair affectionately. The paternal gesture had the intended effect, and the boy relaxed.

“I won’t do it no more, boss,” he said, grinning impishly. “Only I was giddy on account of the whiskey.”

“Speaking of which, where’s that bottle?” the commander said.

He retrieved his glass from the dining room table and refilled it, and then Jesse’s. He wasn’t at all drunk and didn’t intend to become so, but he found that the presence of the liquor gave him an excuse to be more free with his young charge than he normally would. To admit to himself that he actually liked the boy. Even, much to his chagrin, that he wanted the boy to like him, too. As he returned to his seat on the sofa, he noticed Jesse picking agitatedly at the strings on his shirt. He’d seen him do it a couple of times before, but he hadn’t paid it any heed. Now the reason dawned on him and he smiled.

“Jesse,” he said, “for fuck’s sake have a cigarette before you unravel your clothes at the seams.”

“You really don’t mind?” Jesse asked hesitantly.

“Not of you don’t mind sharing.”

“You smoke, boss? You know it ain’t good for you.”

“It’s not good for you, either, young man,” his commander said sternly.

Jesse produced a box and a book of matches from his front pocket. He put a cigarette in his mouth to light it, then held it out to the man.

“I’ve smoked off and on for twenty years,” the man said, taking it. “Rarely anymore, but I think I deserve one tonight.”

“I’ll say. Hell, take ‘em all. I’ve got more. This day’s been full of eye-openers and that’s a fact.”

Jesse lit a cigarette for himself and swirled his whiskey the way he’d seen his commander do.

“Say, boss,” he said after a long pause. “Can I ask you somethin’? And I’ll say right up front that it may be too personal, and I won’t be offended if you tell me to mind my business.”

“Sure, Jesse,” the commander said placidly. “Ask away.”

“How do I put this,” the boy began. “Well, you don’t exactly seem to be…I mean, you’re gay, right?”

The man’s face froze. He was dumbfounded by the directness of the question. His first instinct was to get angry. But there was something earnest, almost appealing in the boy’s eyes that stilled his rising wrath. He found himself fighting with a sudden urge to throw caution to the wind and bare his soul to this fascinating child. He took a deep breath. Fuck it.

“I am,” he said. “How did you find out, though, you little demon? No one knows.”

“No one told me, if that’s what you’re thinkin’ boss,” Jesse said. “I knew it the minute I laid eyes on you. I never said nothin’ cause it wasn’t any of my business. But I thought, seein’ as we become so personable together, we may as well have it out so it don’t come up in some awkward way later.”

“You knew it the minute you laid eyes on me, did you?” the commander said, arching an eyebrow.

“I didn’t mean no insult, boss. I could tell how you was wired on account of…well, on account of me bein’ wired the same way. Takes one to know one, and all that.”

“Well, shit,” the man replied, genuinely surprised by the reciprocal revelation. “But why couldn’t I tell about you?”

“I don’t know,” Jesse said thoughtfully. “Maybe ‘cause you and I was raised different. In different times, like. I think folks from your generation still got a picture of what a gay man is stuck in your heads muckin’ up your ideas. Also, I lived pretty wild and everyone had too much else to do to bother about how other people liked to get off, so folks just come as they was. I didn’t even have a name for it till I was sixteen. I read somethin’ in a newspaper about them gettin’ a gay prime minister of some place and how it was a historic event. I asked my buddy what ‘gay’ meant and he said it meant men who liked other men instead of women. I asked if we was gay then, and he said he reckoned so, since we was fuckin’ and all that.”

“Jesse,” the man said, with almost parental concern, “you were having sex with one of those men from your gang?”

“No, boss, Christ,” Jesse laughed merrily. “Can you imagine me with one of them ugly old leathernecks? No, there was one other boy my age and that was my buddy, Tom. Him and his uncle, who was like his dad, joined up with us ‘cause his uncle fixed petrol engines and couldn’t get no work after the city people all converted to green cars. Me and Tom got to be friends and we was together all the time, playin’ stupid games and wrestlin’ and all that kid stuff. One time and I had him pinned and he looked so pretty like that, with his big black eyes all bright and his cheeks all pink from tumbling around, I decided to try and kiss him. He kissed me back and then he stuck his hand in my pants and started touchin’ me. I liked it, so I let him. Then he asked if I wanted to suck each other off. I said I didn’t know, and asked if it was any fun. He said it was and he’d show me how if I’d do him after.

We did like that for a couple weeks and it was nice and all, but I’d got to wantin’ to fuck him real bad. So we snuck off when everyone was drunk one night and did it behind the garage. Neither of us knew what we was about, and it was pretty choppy waters. He said I hurt him and he didn’t want to do it no more. But, pretty soon he changed his mind and we got to doin’ it all the time. I mean, as often as we could, what with workin’ the way we had to. He didn’t want his uncle to find out, so we’d sneak out there at night, or over to the power station if it was daylight. But after a while, his uncle caught on and got real mad. He said Tom couldn’t talk to me anymore. I’d see him around, and he’d look sulky and give me puppy-dog eyes, but he wouldn’t say nothin’ to me. Then they went away and I never heard of him after that.”

The man regarded the boy with an uncharacteristically tender eye. “I’m sorry, Jesse,” he said. “That must have been hard on you.”

“It was. Damn near broke my heart in two. Not just ‘cause we was fuckin’, though. Tom was the only friend I ever had, too. After he left, I was all alone again, and it was like I was even lonelier than before he came. I figure since I’d had someone for a while, I felt it more when I didn’t, you know?”

“Yeah,” the man said. “I know.”

The two sat in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks and smoking. Then Jesse resumed the conversation.

“Boss,” he began cautiously. “Why is the situation so complicated? With you and Commander Morrison bein’ friends?”

The man shook his head and laughed softly.

“Fuck me,” he said. “Is there anything you haven’t already figured out about me, son? Here I thought I was the smart one. Now I don’t think I know my ass from my elbows compared to you.”

He drained his glass and filled it again, hesitated, then dove in.

“I met Jack a long time ago. He and I…we were together. He was—he is the love of my life. I’ve never loved anyone else and I never will. But I fucked it up and let him go. Now it’s too late.”

“What do you mean, boss?” Jesse said urgently. “It’s never too late. Not if he’s your true love.”

“It is for us, I think. It’s been a long time. And he doesn’t—he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“But what if he does,” the boy insisted. “Why don’t you at least give it a try?”

“I have tried,” the man replied listlessly. “He won’t take me back. He says I should have…”

“Should have what?”

“Should have married him when I had the chance.”

“Y’all was gonna get married? Holy shit, boss. What happened?”

“I fucked it up, like I said. But if you want to know how, there’s some context you have to understand first, so it might be a longer story than you bargained for. You sure you want to hear it?”

“Wild horses,” his young friend said resolutely.

“Alright then. But remember, you asked.”

 


	3. Boyscout

The commander gazed intently into his glass, as if the events he was about to recount were playing out on a tiny screen in the whiskey, and he was preparing to describe what he saw.

“I was raised Catholic,” he said at last, “and there was no such thing tolerance for homosexuality in my family. I know the church has eased up on it since, but back then it was unthinkable. So, when I started to develop in that direction, I denied it. My family was already gone, but the lessons we learn as children are hard to unlearn. I think my parents death made it harder than otherwise, since I would never have the chance to come out to them and gain their acceptance. It was like I’d be disappointing them forever with no way for us to reconcile. So I fought with myself long and hard about it. I drank a lot, and I slept with a lot of women over the years, trying to prove to myself that I wasn’t like that. That I wasn’t gay. I was just confused or fucked up or something.

Anyway, there was a tradition in our family that one male from each generation would serve in the military. My great, great grandparents had believed that because of our good fortune, it was our duty to defend the country that had made us so prosperous, as a symbolic gesture of patriotism. Their influence echoed down through the generations, and my father had served. My older brother probably would have been next, but since there was no one left but me now, I took it on myself to continue the tradition. So I joined the Army and I found that I liked it. I was happy there and I was very good at what I did.

Since I excelled in particular areas and fit a certain psychological profile, I was eventually accepted into the Special Forces to undertake what they called unconventional warfare operations. Traditional warfare in those days meant confrontations between armed units on disputed fronts, but the Special Forces were conducting missions focused on infiltration, taking out high-value military and political targets, obtaining or destroying tech, the kind of thing you and I do now. After a couple of years I was recruited out of the Green Berets by the SOG, to work as special operative under the CIA’s umbrella. The SOG was exactly the kind of job I’d wanted. Our ops were entirely black, meaning the US government was officially unaware of our activities, and had complete deniability. That meant that if we were captured or killed in action, the government would refuse to help or acknowledge us in any way. But it also meant that we were free of a lot of the red tape that made regular military work so frustrating.

Then I was offered an opportunity to be part of a top-secret program with a select few other agents. They wouldn’t tell me anything about what the program actually was, only that we were going to make history. Of course I jumped at the chance. I got my orders, packed my bags, and went off to Langley. There were nine other soldiers who’d been chosen for the program, and one of them was a blonde, square-jawed Boyscout from Minnesota or something. That was Jack. He was my exact opposite in almost every way. White, Protestant, middle-class, close to his family, and incurably straight-laced. I fell for him hard. I couldn’t let him find out, of course. That would’ve been madness. I’d have gotten kicked out so fast I wouldn’t know what hit me. So, the strategy I adopted to deal with it was to avoid him when I could, and to be generally unpleasant when I couldn’t.

Of course, we almost immediately got paired up and assigned to a job, so we had no choice but to spend time together. I was openly hostile to the idea and he wasn’t thrilled about it either, since I’d been a pretty unforgivable asshole to him. Plus I already had a reputation for conduct that fell just barely within regulations, and I think he knew they stuck him with me to keep me under control. But he was a talented, fearless, and reliable soldier and we grew to respect each other and got on friendly terms. Then we were split up and put in charge of different teams for a while, but we still talked every day and even went to local bars together sometimes.

The program began to expand and bring in more recruits, and gradually grew into a real unit. So the brass decided to consolidate all the teams under a single commander. Jack and I were both under consideration. Despite my being older, more experienced, and having more time in grade, they chose him. I was furious and I didn’t make a secret of it. Looking back on it, I’m lucky he handled things the way he did. He had every right to have me censured for insubordination. I was pretty impossible to deal with, and the other men followed my lead. They iced him out, gossiped behind his back, and started being disrespectful in briefings. He was miserable. After one of those briefings, he came knocking at my door. I let him in, but I wasn’t too polite about it. He told me he knew I was angry about the situation and he came to talk about it. I asked what there was to talk about.

He said, ‘Gabe, look, it’s obvious that you wanted this job. You’ve been an impossible bastard since they gave it to me, and I can’t put up with it. The other men see how you treat me and they take it as permission to disrespect me, too.’

I said, ‘Alright, then punish me. You’re the boss. Why don’t you put me in my place.’

He said, ‘I came here as a friend, not as a boss. And I know you deserve the job more than I do.’

I said, ‘Then why did they give it to you?’

He said, ‘Because you can’t follow the rules, Gabe. The brass are afraid that under your control, this group of very dangerous operatives would be uncontrollable and could become a threat to national security.’

I said, ‘Bullshit. They gave it to you because you’re a prissy, boot-polishing Boyscout and they think you’ll make them look good.’

He shook his head and he said, ‘Do you think I don’t know that? I don’t have any illusions about what I am. If I could give the job to you, I would. But I have to do it, and I need your help. The men look up to you. You set the tone of this team, for better or worse. I can’t do this job without you on my side, Gabe. Please help me.’

I stood there with my arms crossed and glared at him. I wanted to say I’d help him, but I was so wrapped up in my hurt pride and my secret heartache over him, I just couldn’t speak. He put his hand on my shoulder and looked up at me with those big blue eyes.

He said, ‘It doesn’t make me happy to get a promotion at your expense. I feel terrible about it. But if the situation were reversed, I would help you. Because you’re my friend, Gabe. You’re my best friend. I hope I’m yours.’

I pushed his hand away and I said, ‘Stop, Jack. Stop it. I can’t stand here and listen to you talk to me about friendship like this. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your friend.’

He looked like I’d hit him in the face. He said, ‘What do you mean? Why can’t you be my friend, Gabriel?’ in this sad, wounded voice.

I sat down on the sofa and put my head in my hands, so I wouldn’t have to see his face when I said what I was about to say. Then I screwed up my courage and got it out.

I said, ‘I can’t be your friend because I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and I know you don’t love me and it’s killing me.’

He just stood there not saying anything for a long time. I looked up at him and he was white as a sheet.

I said, ‘Now’s the part where you call me a faggot and threaten to kill me or turn me in or whatever.’

He said, ‘Gabriel, what is wrong with you?’

I said, ‘I guess I’m just a sick, twisted old pervert.’

He said, ‘No. I mean what makes you hate yourself like this, Gabriel? What is wrong with you that you can’t even consider the possibility that I might…that I might love you, too?’

My heart just about stopped. I stood up and took a step toward him. He backed away, so I came after him and trapped him up against the wall.

I said, ‘Jack, Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me I’m wrong. Say something right now, because if you don’t, I swear I’ll take you for my own and I won't let you go.’

He looked terrified. He stared at me wide eyed and breathing hard like an animal caught in a trap, but he kept his mouth resolutely shut. Then I grabbed him and kissed him and he kissed me and that was that. He was mine.”

Jesse sat back and gave a long whistle through his teeth. “Shit, boss, that’s as good as a play,” he said. “Who knew you were the romantic hero type?”

The man smiled bitterly. “Unfortunately, I’m not,” he said. “It wasn’t happily ever after. And that was because of me. I was still struggling with my identity and sexuality, and even though I was in love with a man, I had this inescapable compulsion to prove to myself that I wasn’t actually homosexual. That loving Jack was an exception and I wasn’t really that way. I made him miserable with my drinking and self-loathing and trying to push him away, but he hung on to me and kept loving me in spite of it all.

Then I was unfaithful to him. I got drunk and slept with some little skank from the bureau, and he broke it off with me. Then we got back together and a year or so later, it happened again with another woman. That time it ended hard. So hard it got physical. He hit me. He couldn’t hurt me and he wasn’t trying to, he just needed to get it out. I stood there and let him hit me over and over again, till he wore himself out. Then I left the base and started driving and I wound up on a three-day bender. When I made my way back, I expected to be arrested for being AWOL. Instead, no one even mentioned it. They all acted as if I’d never been gone, and everything went on like normal. Except Jack. He was professional and polite and ice cold. It crushed me.

That went on for a few weeks, then I went to his room one night and begged him to forgive me. I said I’d change and I swore I’d never even look at anyone else if he’d give me another chance. And Jack, being Jack, said of course he forgave me and took me back again. To this day, I don’t know why he loved me the way he did. I never deserved it. But I stuck to my promise, and after that we were as happy as two people can be for a long time.”

“Why ain’t y’all together anymore, then, boss?” Jesse said, “It seems to me like you was really in love.”

“I fucked it up again,” the commander said with a muffled sigh. “We’d been at the SOG for years, advancing through the ranks, and at that point, we were too high-ranked to justify both of us staying in the same division. The military’s attitude about men like us had transformed quite a bit since we’d joined, but we still kept our relationship hidden to avoid official scrutiny. Then Jack got word he was going to be transferred to Presidio in California, to oversee the creation of a similar division there.

The thing was, if we got married, then they wouldn’t separate us. But I…I refused to do it. I didn’t want everyone to know my personal business to that extent, and I didn’t want to be married. I thought things between us were perfect as they were, and doing all the official nonsense would make it complicated and change it. I tried to make him see that it would be alright. I said I’d come visit him every time I had leave and he could do the same, and then we’d be with each other just as much as any other military couple who’d been assigned to different posts.

He said, ‘So you’d rather fly across the entire United States to be with me every six months than sign a piece of paper that says you’re my husband.’

I said that wasn’t what I meant and I tried to explain my side, but he refused to hear it. He wasn’t angry, just hurt. Hurt and silent, which was much worse. But he tried to give me one last chance.

He said, ‘Gabriel, I’m going away next week. I am going to live alone, far away from you for a long time. I don’t know if I can take it. I don’t know if we can survive this.’

I didn’t allow myself to hear what he was really saying, and I let him go. He slept in my bed the night before he went away, and he left early in the morning without waking me. I found a letter on the night table. It was long and personal, so I’ll spare you the details, but it very clearly communicated that he couldn’t spend his life hanging onto me when he knew I didn’t love him the way he loved me. He said it was over, and not to contact him anymore.

That was ten years ago. Five years ago, he and I were both recruited into this agency after being unceremoniously discharged from our newly-defunct positions with the SOG. We’ve worked together ever since, but things have never been how they were. Too much time has passed and he…he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“We had a talk shortly after we got here and realized we’d be working together again. He said he wanted to make sure I knew there were no hard feelings, and he hoped we could be friends. I said of course we could, but I didn’t really believe him till the first time he cussed me out. Until then things had been very stiff and polite between us, but when he shoved me into a wall and called me a fucking arrogant prick, I figured we’d be alright. That was the Jack I knew. I shoved him back and called him a poncy gringo shithead, and then we burst out laughing and things got more comfortable between us. But I never stopped loving him, and I don’t think I ever will. I’ve asked him to take me back a few times. More than a few times. But he refuses. He says I should have married him when I had the chance and that now it’s too late.”

“You ever ask him to marry you?”

“No, of course not. We’re too old for that kind of thing now. Like he said, it’s too late.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, boss,” Jesse said, “but that sounds like some bullshit to me. Too late is when y’all end up dyin’ alone cause you’re both too god damned stubborn to see you was made for each other.”

“Jesse, you don’t understand…”

“Sure as shit I don’t understand. I don’t understand why y’all think a chance to be with your true love is somethin’ to throw out like trash. You don’t get more than one of those. Most folks don’t even get one. If I was you, I’d go and get him right now. By force if I had to. Ask that man to marry you, you old mule. Y’all ain’t gonna live forever.”

“I hope not.”

Jesse eyed him closely. “Say, boss, I been callin’ you old so much that it don’t mean anything anymore. But you don’t look like an old man and neither does Commander Morrison. How old are you, anyhow?”

The man smiled grimly. “How old do you think I am?”

“Well, let’s see. From your face, I’d say forty or so. But you got a kinda old fashioned way about you, and you might be one of those people who looks young for their age, so maybe fifty?”

“Not even close,” the man said. “I’m eighty-four years old.”

The boy’s cigarette dropped out of his mouth onto his lap and he grabbed it hastily, swatting at his trousers where it had burned them.

“I’m sorry, boss, I didn’t hear you right. I thought you said you was eighty-four years old.”

“You heard me right. That’s how old I am. And Jack is seventy-nine years old.”

“But that ain’t possible, though. How is that possible?”

“That program Jack and I were part of at the SOG was a top-secret project to create what they called ‘high-efficiency assets.’ The actual process was complicated and I still don’t fully understand it, but essentially, we’re genetically enhanced super-soldiers.”

“Like—like Captain America?” the astounded boy asked.

The man laughed aloud. “Yeah, like Captain America. Only real and without the blue spandex.”

“So, you’re in your eighties, you’re a superhero, and you’re a Catholic,” the boy said. “Boss, you got any other bombs you want to drop on me, like aliens are real or Elvis is alive? Cause I been through the ringer tonight and I don’t think I can take another shock like that without warning.”

“No, I think that’s all of it,” the man said. “And thanks for listening to me, Jesse. It means a lot.”

“Yeah, no sweat, boss” the boy said distractedly. “Say, you think if you was to have any kids, maybe some of that genetic enhancement would get passed on to them? Like, would you make superhero babies?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Jesse. But as I said, I don’t understand it fully. You could ask Dr. Ziegler, if you really want to know. She’ll explain it. ”

"Yeah and she’ll probably throw in a forty-minute lecture about smoking, too," Jesse grumbled.

He frowned thoughtfully and picked at the paper on his cigarette filter. He looked up at the commander as if he were about to say something else, but then he appeared to have changed his mind. Instead, he got up and lazily stretched his arms.

“Shit it’s late, boss,” he said. “I think I best be gettin’ gone before I fall asleep here on your floor.”

Reyes stood to see him out. The boy stopped at the door and shook his commander’s hand warmly.

“Thanks, boss,” he said. “Thanks for trustin’ me with all that and for lettin’ me be your friend. I know it ain’t easy for you.”

“No, Jesse, thank you. You’re a good man. I’m proud to call you my friend.”

The boy beamed and blushed and mumbled an awkward goodbye, then retreated down the hall. Reyes stood watching him till he turned the corner, then he stepped back inside and shut the door.


	4. Rival Clans

Nearly two weeks dragged by in unremitting frustration, and Commander Reyes was nearly at his wit’s end. He and Jesse, with their faithful ally assisting from arm’s length, had worked themselves weary digging up old contacts, scouring mission files, and even searching Interpol’s database and the ICD for leads as to who may have hostile intentions toward Blackwatch and its members. They were at a dead end and Reyes was beginning to lose hope. It was a bright, clear April morning when they finally got a break. Since it was a Saturday, Morrison had given himself permission to come into the office late, and have breakfast with his friend in his quarters before he dug into the day’s work. The two men were seated in Reyes’ dining room over coffee, when their young compatriot knocked at the door. He entered the room with a spring in his step and a blue folder in his hand.

“Mornin’ sirs,” he said cheerfully. “I was only expectin’ Commander Reyes, but I’m glad to find you both anyhow. I got some interesting intel this morning, and I think our little case just developed a nice, big crack.”

He plunked down the file he’d been carrying onto the breakfast table, and tapped it with his forefinger.

“Take a gander at this while I get some coffee,” he said, sauntering into the kitchen.

The man and his friend stared at each other for a moment, not quite certain what to make of this behavior, then they fell upon the stack of documents and went to work devouring the contents. The boy returned and seated himself, lighting a cigarette and smoking it languidly as they read. The file contained lists of purchase and delivery orders between the Overwatch organization and a company called Western Sky Logistics. The orders were for large quantities of ballistics supplies, ranging from items like Kevlar helmets and handgun holsters, to tactical EMP projectiles and tank-destroying missiles. The last record was for December 15th, three years earlier. After that, a new record began, showing similar purchase and delivery orders, but between Overwatch and a company called Sakura Logistics Supply.

In a separate tab, there was a report, signed by Commander Gabriel Reyes, and dated November 10th of the same year the last Western Sky record appeared. The report was long and detailed, but in brief, it stated that Western Sky Logistics had been discovered by Commander Reyes and his team to be a Yakuza-owned company operating under the authority of Ichiro Imagawa, a notorious mob-boss and controller of various criminal enterprises throughout Japan. The next item was a memorandum from Overwatch HQ stating that all ties to the Western Sky Logistics company had been severed, and commending Commander Reyes and the Blackwatch team for their diligence in bringing the issue to the attention of the Overwatch organization.

The last item was an encrypted communication sent on the day Jesse and the commander had returned from the Vladivostok mission. It had been sent from an unknown source within Overwatch HQ to a sat-phone located somewhere in Izu, Japan, and had been intercepted by Blackwatch communications surveillance. The message had been decrypted and contained a copy of the altered orders.

“What do you think, bosses?” Jesse said.

“Has anyone else seen this? Who decrypted it?” Morrison wanted to know.

“Neela Sahiri decrypted it herself and brought it right to me. She hasn’t showed it to anyone else.”

“Good,” Reyes said. “I knew she’d be on our side. I guess we’re going to Japan.”

“Boy howdy,” Jesse replied by way of agreement. “Sooner the better, too. How’s your Japanese?”

“Barely functional,” the man said.

“Well, that’s better than mine, which is to say I don’t speak a word, so yours’ll have to do. When can we leave?”

“Hang on,” Morrison interjected. “Gabe, do you really think the Imagawa Clan would try to destroy you because they want revenge over a lost contract?”

“From my personal experience with the Imagawas, absolutely they would,” Reyes said. “They’ve attacked business rivals for far less, and I think they’d be particularly inclined to make trouble over losing a contract like this one, where the loss of tens of millions in annual revenue was concerned.”

“But what do you plan to accomplish by confronting them on their home turf?” Morrison asked. “Shouldn’t we start here? If they have an agent inside, we need to find out who it is immediately.”

“If we can show that they not only interfered in a Blackwatch operation, but that they have an agent planted within Overwatch itself who’s in a position to falsify highly classified records, we can take them down once and for all,” Reyes said. “But Jesse and I can’t start asking questions around here without attracting attention. If we assume their agent is pretty high up the chain, which we have to at this point, we’ll most likely end up in a worse situation by stirring the pot at home than by going right to the source before anyone is the wiser.”

“Alright, Gabe,” his friend said. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground back here. Just let me know what you need.”

“So, when can we go, bosses?” Jesse repeated eagerly.

Reyes looked at Morrison questioningly.

“Let me see,” he said. “If you can wait till Monday, I think the jet might just happen to be suddenly in need of some maintenance that can only be performed at the manufacturer in Hokkaido.”

“Well that’s settled then,” the boy said. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Hokkaido here we come.”

“Ok,” Morrison said, glancing at the clock. “If we want to get you out of here Monday, I better get that maintenance order in right now. If the request is filed within 24 hours of the date the work is needed, the system automatically flags it as emergency maintenance and it goes to the top of the review pile, and we don’t need any alarm bells going off. I’ll catch up with you two later and help you with anything else you need to get prepared.”

“One little hitch, Jack,” Reyes said. “Neither of us are qualified on that jet. Which means we’re going to need a pilot, too.”

Morrison frowned, then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll get back to you before six.”

He put on his coat and hurried out the door. Jesse sat leaning back in his chair and indolently blowing smoke rings as his commander scanned the documents again.

“So, Boss,” he said. “The commander just happen to stop by for breakfast?”

“You got something to say, son?” The man said with a sly smile.

“I’m just glad y’all came to your senses is all,” the boy said gravely. “You only get one true love. You’re lucky yours gave you another chance.”

“I am. Very lucky.”

“Alright, then,” Jesse said. “Congratulations, boss.” He gazed at his commander thoughtfully.

“What’s that look for, Jesse?” the man said.

“Hm? Oh, nothin’. I was just thinkin’ how it’d be to see the two of you all cozy and actin’ like sweethearts together. Most brings a tear to my eye.”

The man smiled and shook his head. “You little wildcat,” he said. “You’ll be the death of me with the outrageous shit that comes out of your mouth. And Jesse, thanks. I think our talk the other night maybe knocked some sense into me. I’m lucky to have you, too.”

The boy flushed crimson with the double-barreled compliment and pulled his hat down in an attempt to conceal it, an endearingly boyish gesture that made the man laugh heartily.

They spent the rest of the day in a flurry of activity, making arrangements for travel while in Japan, organizing their gear, and putting together a plan of attack. The target location was Imagawa castle, a prominent Yakuza stronghold situated on the outskirts of a small resort city on the Izu peninsula. The plan was to enter the city separately and scout the location for several days, gathering intel and assessing what they were up against, then to decide their next move based upon what they learned. Jesse would pose as a tourist and be the point man, and the commander would remain hidden, keeping an eye on his movements and communicating with him by sat-radio. It was a far more hasty, fly-by-night arrangement than the commander was entirely comfortable with, but in their situation, they didn’t have much choice.

“The important thing is to try to blend in and not attract too much attention,” he told his young friend. “Try to pick up what you can without asking any direct questions.”

“Sounds good, boss, but how do I go about blending in?” Jesse said doubtfully. “Ain’t no disguisin’ the fact that I’m a six-foot-tall white dude with a Texas accent.”

“Lean into it. Bring your guitar and wear that idiotic hat. Play dumb American cowboy. Use the word ‘foreign’ if you can. You’re a teenager, too, so try to look and act like one. Hang out where the local boys do. See if you can’t befriend some of them and get them to show you around. I’ll be keeping myself invisible, but I’ll shadow you wherever you go.”

“What’s my cover?”

“Two layers,” the commander said. “One, you’re taking a year off and traveling abroad before college. Anyone too intelligent won’t buy that for long. So if you get into hot water with someone, or feel like you’ve earned their trust, you’ll come clean. You’re an outlaw avoiding arrest for some petty crimes and you came to Japan to be as far from Texas as you can. That’ll work because you can back it up with authenticity.”

“I like that. It’s as close to tellin’ the truth as possible.”

“One more thing. There’s a rival clan in that same area. Their headquarters, Shimada Castle, is right in the middle of our target location. They have long-standing hostilities with the Imagawa Clan, and there has been violence between them before. There’s not a very strong likelihood that they’d help us intentionally, since they’re essentially a criminal empire too. But our interests may just happen to align with theirs for the moment, so we need to at least avoid stepping on their toes.”

“Got it. Shimada. No toes-stepping,” Jesse said. “Oh, boss, can I say I was a train robber? Cause I was, so I can tell the stories real good and it makes me seem kinda like a romantic desperado.”

The commander smiled. “Yeah, Jesse you can say you were a train robber.”

Morrison returned that afternoon with good news. A pilot was willing to do the boss a favor and overlook the presence of two unauthorized passengers. The only caveat was that they’d have to stay off the communicators in-flight, since all transmissions were recorded as a matter of course. Reyes saw this as a distinct advantage, since the boy couldn’t pester him with stories the entire flight, and the boy was too full of excitement about playing international mystery-man to have room in his mind for anything else. By Sunday night, everything was prepared. In the morning, they would fly to Hokkaido, and from there, they would take the train to Izu and set up at their hotel in Hanamura.

Late the following evening, a tall, handsome young man, somewhat travel-weary, but none the worse for wear, arrived to check in at his hotel in the resort town of Hanamura. He had a disarmingly boyish grin and a guitar case strapped to his back, and his wide-brimmed hat and tight-fitting blue-jeans proclaimed cowboy before one even noticed his well-worn boots. The hotel staff found his genteel southern manner and faltering attempts at Japanese immensely charming, and the rumor quickly got abroad that he was an American film star laying low in Hanamura to visit the hot springs and escape the clamor of Hollywood.

Jesse found everyone to be polite, excessively helpful, and resolutely incurious regarding his personal business. After he checked in, he radioed the commander that all was well, and a short time later the man slipped unseen into the hotel and joined him in the room. It was too late to do anything that night, so they sat smoking and talking till they were both unable to keep their eyes open any longer, and dozed off.

The next day at around noon, Jesse embarked on his errand to blend in. He wandered about, looking into shops in a dilatory fashion, sampling some street cuisine, and taking some touristy photos with his sat-phone’s camera. He made his eventual way to a bustling little street within view of Shimada castle, where he found a promising video game arcade. He’d never played video games in his life, but he figured this was where local youth would be most likely to be found, so he headed inside. He got out his phrase book and mystified the girl at the counter with his attempts at pronunciation, till he was able to make her understand that he only had cash, and needed to purchase a pre-filled card to use in the game machines.

This task accomplished, he strolled about, surveying the scene. As it was just past one in the afternoon on a weekday, the place was nearly deserted, so his effort appeared to be disappointed for the moment. From the second level of the arcade, however, he could hear a jumble of voices laughing and talking excitedly in Japanese. He got gradually around and headed up the stairs, looking as if he were browsing the machines. The voices belonged to a group of boys about his age, or a little younger, all crowded around a single machine, cheering and laughing as one of them struck furiously at the buttons and sticks. He was apparently doing it correctly, because the machine suddenly lit up like a fireworks display and announced, “High Score!” in an infantile female voice. The crowd of boys erupted with applause.

Jesse placed himself at a machine a little way off, so as not to make his presence obtrusive, and listened to the boys’ extravagant praise of the player’s success. Meanwhile, he attempted to activate the machine he’d chosen, and then to understand what to do when that happened. He was apparently doing it incorrectly, because soon after the game commanded him to start, the screen went black and a big cartoon skull appeared and helpfully offered, “You Died.”

He was about to make another attempt when he heard a voice merrily call out, “American!”

He looked about him. The player who had elicited all the applause was grinning broadly and waving him over. He was a bit taller and much handsomer than the rest of the boys, and was clearly the central figure in their little group. What stood out to Jesse most prominently, however, was his bizarre hairstyle. He wore it swept back and upward, defying the laws of god and Newton as only Japanese hair can, and it was dyed an absolutely radioactive shade of green. Jesse had learned enough to be aware that a hair color like that was a bold act of rebellion in a school-aged Japanese youth, and assessed that this boy must be something of a firebrand. He liked him instantly.

“American,” the boy repeated, nodding his head and beckoning.

Jesse approached the group and tipped his hat, much to their enjoyment.

“Howdy,” he said. “That’s right, I’m American. I’m Jesse McCree. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

This sent the group into fits of hilarity.

“Like Jesse James,” their leader exclaimed. “You are a cowboy!”

“Yep,” Jesse grinned. “Like Jesse James.”

“Jesse McCree,” the green-haired boy said, pronouncing his name trisyllabically, so it sounded like ma-coo-ree. “I am Shimada Genji. Would you like to join us?”

Jesse started at the name Shimada and wavered for a split second. He’d wandered into an arcade looking for locals, and had run smack-dab into a member of that rival clan he’d been cautioned about. It seemed to be a more promising beginning than not, however, so he went with the proverbial flow.

“I’d like that,” he said, “thank you. I’m afraid I won’t be very good, though. I never played video games before.”

The group manifested deep shock and a touch of pity.

“Never played video games,” Genji said. “You are a real cowboy, then? From the wild west?”

“That’s right,” Jesse replied. “The wildest. We didn’t have much in the way of arcades or nothin’ out there.”

“You must tell me about it,” Genji said eagerly. “But if you would still like to play, I will be happy to show you how.”

“That’s mighty neighborly of you,” Jesse said, removing his hat and placing it on a nearby table. “Folks around here have all been so friendly. Almost makes it seem like home.”

“I am pleased that you find my city hospitable. Welcome to Hanamura, Jesse McCree.”

“Thank you kindly,” Jesse said.

He stepped up to the machine where the other boy indicated he should stand, and the game commenced. They chatted amiably and Jesse made a valiant attempt to parse the frenzied activity on the screen, Genji coaching and encouraging him all the while. The other boys (who, Jesse had noted, Genji did not feel it necessary to introduce), offered boisterous support from the sidelines. When it appeared that the game was finished and they had won, Jesse realized that more than an hour had passed and he was due to check in with the commander. He had actually been enjoying himself, playing games with boys his own age. He wondered what it would’ve been like having friends like this when he was growing up out in the dust-scoured wastes of Texas. Probably a lot less lonesome.

He excused himself to the restroom and reported briefly over the radio that he’d run into some local teenagers and was working on gaining their confidence. When he returned, he found the boys making ready to depart, much to his disappointment. He picked up his hat and stuck out his hand to shake Genji’s.

The green-haired boy shook it vigorously, then he said, “Jesse McCree, what are your plans for the afternoon?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I’m really just drifting around and taking in the sights. You have any suggestions for what a fella should do hereabouts?”

“A fella should come with us,” Genji said. “We are returning to my home to dine and then we will go out to a dance club later in the evening. Would that be agreeable to you?”

“Boy howdy, would it ever. Are you sure it’s alright, though? I don’t want to impose on your hospitality.”

“Of course it is alright, cowboy! I would very much like to show you my city and learn your impressions.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of you. Ok then, I accept.”

“Ok then,” Genji repeated, as if he liked the way it sounded.

Jesse and his new friend strolled down the street side-by-side, the latter pointing at every building along the way and relating the history and current function of each, and Jesse, head cocked slightly downward in order to hear to the much shorter boy, nodding agreeably and saying things like, “That a fact,” and “You don’t say.” The other boys followed a few paces behind them and chatted amongst themselves. They arrived at the imposing gates of Shimada castle, which were kept shut, even during the daylight hours. Genji waved a hand at the large, armed guards. They bowed low and swung the gates aside, allowing the group to pass inside without hindrance. Jesse began to feel uneasy. He’d assumed his new friend was some low-level cohort of the clan, but he was apparently the kind of person who commanded bows and unchallenged entry to the stronghold. He wondered exactly who this boy was.

“Welcome to my home,” Genji said, spreading his arms wide, as if to encompass the entire grounds. “This is Shimada Castle.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jesse said sincerely. “Thank you.”

Beautiful didn’t begin to describe his appreciation of the place. To him, it looked like a chunk of heaven dropped out of the sky and landed on a hilltop in Japan. The grounds were pristine and airy, and serenely silent, but for a gentle breeze rustling in the ornamental cherry trees, which softened the brilliant sunlight and tinted it with their gentle, pale-pink hue. The buildings reminded Jesse of ancient Japanese temples, like where the Kung-Fu monks always lived in the movies. The entire place radiated an aura of restful tranquility and freedom from the clutter and bustle of the outside world that Jesse had never experienced. He followed his friend, gazing about him dreamily, and listening raptly to his descriptions of the structures and their functions. At last they arrived at a wide, multi-story building at the end of a long, winding path.

“And this is my room,” Genji announced as he slid the door open.

“This whole thing is your room?” Jesse said, astonished.

“It is mine and my brother’s. Our bedrooms are there, and there,” Genji said, indicating to hallways leading off opposite sides of the massive main room. “We share the common space for dining, training, and entertaining guests. Though my brother has no guests but his tutors.”

He laughed as he said the last bit. Jesse didn't understand why it was funny, but he supposed it must be a common joke among Genji's people, so he laughed too. It was only then that he noticed the group of boys from the arcade hadn’t accompanied them into the building.

“Say, where’d all your friends go?” he asked.

“They have gone to their own quarters. They are not permitted to dine with me inside the castle,” Genji replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“Oh, I see,” Jesse said, not seeing at all.

“You Americans do not have such customs?”

“Well, I don’t know if we do. I never been in a situation where it come up.”

Genji laughed merrily. “You are very funny, Jesse. The servants will bring food to us here, if you would like. Or we can eat outside, if you prefer.”

“Oh, outside, please,” Jesse said. “It’s so pretty I could just sit and look at the trees and things forever.”

“Very well,” Genji said cordially. “I will order our refreshment to be brought to the garden.”

The two boys passed through the silent, immaculate hall and out a back door, from which the garden was accessed. Genji bid Jesse to explore freely and went to give the appropriate orders to the servants. Jesse wandered about, soaking in every detail of the gardens and grounds. He was musing distractedly on the differences between Japanese castles and south-Texas trailers, when he passed under an archway just in time to feel the very breath of an arrow as it flew past within centimeters of his face, followed by a voice exclaiming angrily in Japanese. His stomach dropped and his head spun with the shock of the close call he’d just had. He clutched his pounding heart and looked in the direction the arrow had gone, then in the direction from which it had come.

The blue-feathered shaft had buried itself deep in the center of a round, straw training target in front of a high stone wall. The apparent archer, from whom the indignant Japanese words were still emanating, was a little way off toward the building containing Genji’s room, and approaching very rapidly. Jesse fought his natural inclination to bolt and stood waiting awkwardly for the offended party. The archer strode angrily to meet him and glared up into his face. Jesse stared dumbly back, thunderstruck and unable to speak a word. He was standing face to face with the most beautiful human being he had ever laid eyes on.


	5. The Archer

The archer stood glaring fiercely up at Jesse, apparently waiting for some kind of explanation. He was an athletically built young man, about five inches shorter than Jesse, with long, glossy black hair that fell over his face and shoulders where it had escaped its restraining tie. But it was his face that had stunned Jesse into silence. His face was perfect. Smooth, pale-olive skin, strong black brows, clear, bright, black eyes, large and almond shaped and shaded by long, sooty lashes. High, aristocratic cheekbones, and pouting, almost insolent lips set firmly above a finely cut chin and jaw.

“Holy fucking shit,” Jesse said aloud, not intending to.

“Holy fucking shit,” the young man repeated slowly in a heavy Japanese accent. “You are American, then. What are you doing in my house, aside from behaving foolishly? I almost killed you.”

“I—I came with Genji,” Jesse stammered, attempting to swallow in a dry throat. “I’m real sorry, but I didn’t know you was shootin’ your—” he broke off abruptly as the absurdity of the situation suddenly called him back to himself. His native pride flared up and his face grew hot with indignation. “Say, what in sam-hell are you doin’, anyhow? Shootin’ at folks with a bow and arrow like you’re Robin Hood or somethin’. Who uses a bow and arrow nowadays?”

The young man stared up at the tall American, his angry expression growing blacker.

“Of course you are one of Genji’s friends,” he said. “My brother has poor judgement in most things, not the least with whom he chooses to associate himself.”

“That’s heavy artillery to level at a fella you just met and almost killed,” Jesse said coolly. He cocked an eyebrow and flashed a rakish grin. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

For some reason, this appeared to have had a palliative, rather than provoking effect on the young man. That, or he’d simply remembered to restrain his temper.

“You are correct,” he said, his face smoothing into a more placid, though still haughty, expression. “I apologize for my discourtesy. Please be more careful in the future. Particularly when entering the training yard.”

“I think I better apologize too,” Jesse replied, gliding effortlessly into genteel charm. “I was wanderin’ around with my head all in the clouds on account of the place bein’ so beautiful and peaceful, and I didn’t see the targets and things. I didn’t mean no offense about the bow and arrow. I just never saw someone use ‘em before, is all.”

“You find our home beautiful?” the young man said, eyeing him doubtfully.

“I never seen anything half so beautiful in my life,” Jesse replied, gazing steadily into the black eyes.

The young man turned away quickly and appeared to be making some small adjustments to his bowstring. At that moment, Genji’s cheerful voice came echoing across the courtyard.

“Jesse, there you are! I see you have met my brother. Is he boring you to death already?”

“I am not boring,” the archer said, shooting his brother an icy glare. “I am responsible.”

He turned back to the interloping cowboy and bowed stiffly.

“I am Shimada Hanzo, elder son of Shimada Sojiro, Master of the Shimada Clan.”

“Howdy,” Jesse said, sticking out his hand. “My name’s Jesse McCree, only son of Evelyn Harper McCree and whoever my daddy was. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Hanzo reluctantly took the proffered hand in his and Jesse shook it heartily, more to irritate the arrogant princeling than to be especially polite. The young man gave another stiff bow and departed hastily the way he’d come.

“I apologize for my brother,” Genji said, before Hanzo was out of earshot. “But do not take it personally. He hates everyone.”

Jesse assented politely, but he wasn’t so sure Genji was exactly correct. He wouldn’t bet his last nickel on it, but he’d been almost certain he saw those lofty cheeks flush ever so slightly as the young man had turned away to look at his bow.

He followed Genji to a round, roofed structure in the garden that Genji called a tea house, but Jesse thought looked an awful lot like a gazebo. They sat on mats placed on the bamboo floor, and their meal was served to them by silent servants in black satin kimonos. Genji laughed to see Jesse’s obvious discomfort with being waited upon. He laughed at Jesse’s behavior quite a bit, but there was no hint of ridicule in it. It was obvious that he was delighted with this strange American and the novelty of his cowboy manners. Even if his laughter had been malicious, however, Jesse would not have noticed at that moment. All of his attention was absorbed in the food. He found his senses treated to a series of delicious and spectacular new delicacies, none of which he knew the names for and all of which he thoroughly enjoyed. As they ate, he described the incident with the arrow, to Genji’s boundless amusement.

When they were finished, the servants reappeared to clear away the dishes, and the two boys strolled in the garden. Genji began to inquire eagerly after the details of Jesse’s life. Jesse decided this was the time to breach the second layer of the cover story.

“Look, Genji,” he said gravely, stopping under the shade of a massive, gnarled cedar. “I haven’t been entirely on the up-and-up with you. You been so good and kind, takin’ me under your wing and havin’ me in your home, and it ain’t fair of me to hide things from you.”

The younger boy’s eyes grew wide with curiosity. “What is it, Jesse?”

“Ok, but promise you’ll hear me out before you say anything. Then if you want me to go away and leave you be, I’ll understand.”

“Ok,” the boy repeated, all eyes and ears.

“Well, I been travelin’ under the pretext that I’m takin’ a gap year before college, but the truth is…”

He hesitated for dramatic effect.

“…I’m runnin’ from the law. There, I said it. Now hear me out, you promised. I was orphaned when I was twelve and I had to survive somehow, so I lived pretty rough and tumble, and eventually I took up with a gang of train-robbers. I didn’t want that kinda life, but there wasn’t much choice for a kid like me. I had to do somethin’ or starve. Thing is, I got real good at it and I started to get infamous, like. Sheriffs and whatnot was gunnin’ for me by the time I was sixteen, and I knew I was fixin’ to end up dead or rotting away in jail for the rest of my days. All I wanted was a fair shake, you know? A chance to be someone different. So one night I stole the loot from the gang’s safe and I bolted. I wanted to get as far from Texas as the sun is from the moon, so I wound up here in Japan. I ain’t violent and I ain’t hurtin’ nobody. I’m just tryin’ to live my life as best I can without the Deadlocks and the sheriffs hangin’ over my head. I know I shoulda told you right away, and I hope you can forgive me for hidin’ it at first. But I didn’t mean no harm. I been mighty lonesome and you’re the first friend I’ve made since…well, in a powerful long while.”

Just as Jesse expected, the younger boy was elated with the romance and adventure of the tale. He assured Jesse that he wasn’t angry and swore he’d never tell anyone, then positively battered Jesse with questions regarding train robberies and motorcycles and living like a bandit in the vast Texas wastes. Jesse, who had in very fact lived the life he’d described, proved to be a bottomless source of information on the subject. Before an hour had passed, he’d explained how to board a slow-moving train, how to slow down a fast one without derailing it, how to position your men for an assault, how to control a crowd of panicked passengers, and even how to crack a time-locked safe.

If Genji had any doubts regarding his friend’s truthfulness at the beginning of the conversation, he had none at the end. He had found a real-life Jesse James. An outlaw by necessity turned hero, struggling to walk the treacherous path to redemption. He’d liked his new cowboy friend before, but he was over the moon now. He had never known anyone like Jesse, and he privately thought Jesse must be the most interesting person he’d ever met. He envied the independence and gritty self-sufficiency apparent in the young man. His own life had been one of walls and rules and lessons, and his father’s constant disappointment as he failed to perform as well as his brother at any and every endeavor.

Jesse couldn’t help the sinking feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach as he saw how much the boy had genuinely taken to him, all the while knowing that he still hadn’t been entirely honest. But his loyalty to the mission, the organization, and the commander who had rescued him from the very life he’d described to Genji overbore his guilt. He wouldn’t have betrayed the commander even under actual torture, and he wouldn’t now. His thoughts flew back to those long days and nights spent in the field together, depending upon each other for their survival. The talks they’d had about their lives and loves. And the secret he’d kept all this time. The thing that bound him even more closely to the man he idolized and adored.

Then the face of the superior young archer rose like a sun above the horizon of his mind and extinguished all other thoughts in its blazing corona. He felt at once that he would betray the mission, the commander, his very soul, if the owner of that face desired it. He was keenly alive and alert, agonizingly awake to a fresh, bleeding wound that gaped at the center of his being and threatened to consume him.

“Hey, Genj,” he said, already using an affectionately abbreviated name for his friend, who he genuinely liked immensely. “I don’t know if I feel so much like goin’ to a rowdy dance club tonight. Would you mind terribly if I begged off?”

The boy looked anxiously into his friend’s handsome face. “Are you unwell, Jesse?”

“No, no, nothin’ like that. Only I’m awful tired from traveling and all that mess and I think I’d rather be quiet tonight.”

“But you would still like to spend time with me, yes? If we chose a more quiet activity?”

“Oh, no,” Jesse said, then corrected, “I mean yes, I’d like that very much, but I don’t want to throw a wet blanket all over your fun just cause I’m out of sorts. You should go.”

“Nonsense,” the younger boy said, his usual cheerful grin returning. “I have been to many such dance clubs many times. I only go because I am bored at home and become restless. But if you are with me, I will not be bored or restless. We can do anything you like.”

After some waffling and indecision (entirely on Genji’s part), they decided upon taking a walk to the hot springs across the small town, and then getting supper at one of the excellent restaurants in the area. Before they departed, Jesse excused himself to the restroom to report in to the commander again. He fitted the mic around his throat and placed the earbud in his ear, then pressed the button to open a transmission. Reyes responded immediately.

“Jesse,” his tinny voice said through the earbud, “do you know where you are?”

“Well, yes, sir I do. I’m in a toilet inside Shimada castle.”

“And you are aware who your new friend is.”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Boy, I don’t know if you’re doing something to make luck love you, or if you’re charmed or what. We’re in Japan less than 24 hours, and you’re already in the door of Shimada castle. This is better than the best I hoped for.”

“Thanks, boss, but it really was just dumb luck.”

“Well, keep it up, whatever it is. Let’s stay on this. See where it goes. Maybe we can work out a way to get their help, after all.”

“Understood, sir,” Jesse said. “And boss, we’re on our way to the hot spring and then dinner in town. Just so’s you can stay on top of us.”

“Got it,” the commander replied. “Check in again at 2300. Good work, mijo.”

“Thank you, boss.”

Jesse removed the radio accoutrement and rejoined his friend in his frankly enormous bedroom. Genji was sprawled out on his bed poking disgustedly at his telephone’s screen.

“I hope you are not displeased,” he said, “but my father insists that my brother accompany us. I will not allow him to be so unpleasant this time, though.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all,” Jesse said, looking as though he minded very much. “No. Yeah. That’s just fine with me. More the merrier and all that. Y’all wouldn’t mind stopping by my hotel for a minute, though, would you? I gotta pick up my bathing suit and things.”

“Jesse, it is not permitted to wear a bathing suit in the hot spring,” Genji said, stifling a laugh at Jesse’s startled expression.

Jesse was in a situation now. He had never been afflicted with what anyone would call excessive modesty. His body was universally admirable, and he was not at all shy about nudity. But he found the idea of being seen in nothing but his skin by that particular young man, especially in a public hot tub, little brother in tow and god knows who else around into the bargain, to be a very distressing proposition. But going with the flow had worked out for him so far, so he screwed up his courage and followed the two brothers out the front gate, figuring he’d take the situation as it came.

As they exited the grounds, he saw that Genji’s friends from the arcade had accompanied them once again, and were walking together, a few paces to the rear.

“How big are those hot tubs, Genj?” he said. “Enough to fit all of us?”

The younger boy looked confused. “The three of us?” he asked.

Jesse indicated the group of young men behind them. “With your friends comin’ now, that makes eight of us.”

Genji laughed aloud and his older brother cleared up the misunderstanding.

“They are not our friends,” Hanzo said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “They are our bodyguards.”

“That a fact,” Jesse said. “What do you fellas need bodyguards for? I mean, you both look like you could handle yourselves in a scrap.”

“We can,” Genji said. “But our enemies would not attempt to kill us by engaging us in a fair fight. That would be foolishness.”

“I bet it would,” the cowboy said, eyeing the lithe, muscular arms of the archer who had nearly put an abrupt end to his life a few hours earlier. “But I don’t understand. Y’all have enemies that might try and kill you?”

“They will not make an attempt on us here,” Hanzo said. “You need not fear for your safety. It is merely a precaution that our father requires us to take.”

“Ah,” Jesse said. “Dad’s a little overprotective. I get you.”

This elicited no response from the taciturn archer, so Jesse disregarded him and talked with Genji as they made their way across the little town. The actual ordeal with the hot spring turned out to be far less trying than he’d anticipated. He lingered in the dressing room, and the brothers were already in the steaming water when he joined them, so he was able to drop his towel and slip discreetly into the tub without anyone taking notice. Genji kicked his feet and splashed about, chatting enthusiastically with Jesse about whatever popped into his head, and Hanzo rested against the far side of the tub with his eyes and mouth shut. Jesse’s awkwardness wore off rapidly, and the hot, mineral-rich water had a miraculous effect on his body. All the soreness and stiffness of intercontinental travel dissolved from his muscles and joints, and he left the soak refreshed and energized.

He was the first to be dressed, so he went outside and lit a cigarette. The older brother emerged next, and stood against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed and silent as a sphinx.

“Howdy,” Jesse said, exhaling a plume of white smoke into the air and tipping his hat to the stoic young man.

“Hello,” the sphinx in question replied.

“You know,” Jesse said, pushing back the brim of his hat, “howdy don’t mean hello. It’s short for how do you do. It’s a courteous question, and most folks bother themselves to give a courteous answer.”

The black eyes darted up to his face, as if the young man were preparing a sharp retort. But once again, the severe expression smoothed.

“I am well, Mr. McCree.”

“Just Jesse is fine.”

“I am well, Jesse. I trust you are also in good health.”

“Healthy as a mule,” Jesse said affably, taking the opening where he could get it. “Specially after that soak. I feel as fresh as a brand new day. Spry and limber and relaxed all over. I wish I’d known about hot springs before. I coulda been marinating the soreness all out of me for years.”

Did the ghost of a smile pass over the young archer’s face? Maybe not.

“They are quite useful,” he said curtly.

Jesse turned to face the young man. “Tell me somethin’, Han-so,” he said, emphasizing the second syllable. “Why do you dislike me so much? I know I offended you earlier and got things off on the wrong foot and all, but I’m tryin’ my best to be friendly. All’s I want is to have a pleasant conversation, and you’re all spikes and thorns.”

Had the ardent young cowboy known how to read the other man rightly, he would have thought twice before asking such a tactless question. But he did not. Not yet. He saw only the austere, unyielding façade, not comprehending that it had been erected to shield its helpless occupant, who was at that moment foundering in the depths of internal torment.

“My name,” the archer said icily, “is pronounced Hanzo.”

“Alright, Hanzo,” Jesse said, bruised by the dismissive parry of his advance. “Have it your way then. There ain’t no rule that says we’ve got to be friends.”

They waited in silence, the archer brooding and the cowboy smoking, till Genji finally appeared. Jesse observed a silent look of disapproval from the older brother, which was met by an acidic smile from the younger. He began to think maybe he had misjudged the relationship between these two strange siblings, and became more alert to what passed between them from that moment on.

Dinner was a long, lively affair, filled with Jesse’s stories and Genji’s merry, musical laughter. Even Hanzo forgot himself and smiled a few times. But Jesse noted that Genji had begun drinking sake before their food was served, and continued to drink throughout the meal. The fact was not remarkable in itself, since they all did so. What was remarkable was the quantity Genji consumed. Jesse, who’d been brought up to rotgut whiskey like it was mother’s milk, had several glasses of the gentle spirit, and was stone-cold sober. Hanzo didn’t even finish his first glass. But Genji finished several bottles, and by the end of the meal, he was absolutely drunk. As the younger brother grew more intoxicated, the older brother became more withdrawn and silent, till he ceased participating in the conversation entirely. This irritated Genji and he began to goad his brother.

“Look, Jesse,” he said, tugging on the sleeve of Jesse’s shirt. “My brother is so proper. Is he not?”

Jesse attempted to shift the topic. “Weren’t we talkin’ about—”

“He is angry with me,” Genji interrupted. “Because I am irresponsible and he is perfect. But he is jealous because I have a good time and girls like me.”

He was slurring his words together sloppily, and leaned on Jesse for support as he began to sway in his seat.

“No girls like him at all,” he said with a burst of drunken laughter. “Jesse, remember the girl at the hot spring? The one at the counter? Wasn’t she pretty?”

“I don’t know,” his friend said. “I guess in a kind of way, sure.”

“You did not like her?”

“She, uh, she ain’t exactly…my type,” Jesse said uneasily.

“Well, I liked her. And she liked me very much. She came into my dressing room after we—”

“Shimada Genji,” his brother said sternly. “That is enough.”

He didn’t raise his voice above an ordinary conversational pitch, but the effect was the same as if he had shouted. Genji gave a start and shut his mouth. There was a tense beat of silence, then Genji laughed and resumed his disjointed chatter, but he did not return to the topic of the girl at the hot spring. Genji wanted to remain and continue drinking, but Jesse coaxed him away at last with a promise to go and get his guitar and sing them some cowboy songs. He ran up to his room and grabbed it as they passed by his hotel on their way back, and he scribbled a note to the commander, explaining his whereabouts. Then he rejoined his party in the street, and assisted Hanzo in leading the stumbling boy homeward.

When they entered the common hall in the brothers’ shared quarters, Hanzo departed without a word, leaving Jesse to entertain his drunken friend on his own. The two went to Genji’s bedroom, where he produced cans of beer from a small refrigerator and laid on the floor, listening to Jesse play some old, folksy songs and country standards. When it became apparent that the boy had fallen asleep, Jesse lifted him into his bed, disposed of the empty cans, and packed up his guitar.

As he passed through the cavernous main hall, his steps were arrested by a strain of the sweetest, most heartbreaking music he’d ever heard. It was some kind of stringed instrument with which he was unfamiliar, and it was being played by someone there in the building. The melody led him down the darkened hallway across from Genji’s room to an open doorway, from which a light and the music emanated. He set his feet down gently, almost breathlessly, afraid lest he should make a sound to disturb the player, and that music would stop. Inside the room, he could see the older brother, kneeling on the floor with his back almost directly to the door. He was playing a long, flat wooden instrument, distantly related to the guitar, that lay before him on the floor. Jesse was spellbound. He stood rooted to the spot, straining to catch every note of the haunting, exotic melody. As the song ended, he cleared his throat softly, hoping not to startle the young man.

The young man turned his head and looked up at him expectantly.

“Pardon me, Hanzo, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Jesse said. “I just come to let you know Genji’s passed out and it’d probably be wise to have someone look in on him at some point tonight.”

“Thank you. I will inform the servants.”

“And I wanted to say, I…I hope you didn’t think I was laughin’ at your expense or nothin’ when we was at dinner. I don’t think Genji’s right to talk about you like he does, specially not in front of me who’s a stranger to y’all. But there ain’t no sense in arguin’ with a man when he’s in his liquor. Most times it just riles him up worse. So I apologize if I seemed like I was agreein’ with him.”

It had indeed seemed precisely that way to Hanzo. He was surprised to hear such a circumspect and considerate sentiment expressed by this coarse cowboy, who he had not taken to be particularly intelligent. He regarded the tall American with a not entirely hostile eye. Jesse took this for a favorable sign and advanced a step into the room. Hanzo stood abruptly.

“Say, if you don’t mind me askin’,” Jesse said, stopping where he stood and indicating toward the instrument, “what's that thing you’re fiddlin’ on?”

“This thing,” the archer said, “is a koto.”

“Well, it’s the prettiest music I ever heard. I play this old squawk box.” Jesse held up the guitar case. “But I ain’t anything like the musician you are.”

The black eyes gazed up at him in silence.

“I wonder,” Jesse went on, “if you wouldn’t mind too terribly, would you maybe want to show me a little how you play one of those? I could show you how to play guitar in return, so’s everything’s fair.”

“I am very tired, Mr. McCree,” Hanzo said.

Jesse went a bit red in the face, embarrassed by the rebuff of his impulsive request.

“Oh, of course,” he said, attempting to backtrack. “I didn’t mean to…some other time, maybe.”

“Some other time, maybe,” Hanzo repeated slowly. Then, to Jesse’s wide-eyed astonishment, he said, “Perhaps…tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Really? Yeah, absolutely,” the cowboy said eagerly. “Any time at all, you name it.”

“Noon?” the archer offered.

Jesse couldn’t quite believe this turn of events. He agreed to the time, said he’d be there with bells on, an idiom that confused his host entirely, then made his escape before the other young man could have a chance to change his mind.


	6. Nonstandard Vernacular

When Jesse arrived in the hotel room, the commander was just entering from the balcony door.

“Jesse,” he said, forgoing a greeting, “did you hear or see anything on your way back here? I mean, did you know you were being followed?”

“Well I supposed I was,” Jesse said. “Weren’t you shadowin’ me?”

“I wasn’t the only one. Someone came over the wall of Shimada castle after you left the gate. Masked, dressed in black or dark blue. I stayed on the rooftops and kept eyes on him. He followed you along the roofs on the opposite side of the street till you were in view of the hotel. He stopped on that building across the square and watched you go inside, then he turned around and took off back toward the castle.”

“Masked like a ninja or somethin’?”

“Yeah,” Reyes said.

Jesse shuddered. “I don’t like the idea of bein’ exposed like that, boss. Gives me the willies thinkin’ someone had a clean shot on me the whole time without me knowin’ it.”

“I wouldn’t have let him take it,” his commander said. “But I don’t think you were in danger. If they wanted you kill you, they wouldn’t let you leave the castle and then do it in the street.”

“I guess they’re curious about me on account of me gettin’ friendly with the master’s kids, then.”

“Most likely. I’ll have to be more cautious when I follow you from now on. I don’t want to risk their spies seeing me by mistake. Did you find out anything interesting from the boys?”

“Nothin’ we didn’t know already. But I’m workin’ on it. I got a feelin’ the older one knows a lot more than the younger one. I’m goin’ back tomorrow at noon. I’m gonna learn to play the koto.”

“They’re giving you music lessons now?” Reyes laughed merrily at the idea. “What did you do to make them like you so much, blow both of them in the hot tub?”

“You know me, boss,” Jesse grinned broadly. “Anything for the mission. But no, I reckon it was the train robber stuff. Genji says I’m like a real life Jesse James.”

“Alright, Mr. James, what’s your instinct about being in the castle? You feel safe there?”

“Safe as I ever feel anywhere. Why?”

“Unfortunately, their spies following you puts a damper on your mobility at the moment. I want to do some recon at Imagawa Castle, but I can’t take you with me and risk them finding out what we’re doing. You think you can handle it solo tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll be ok,” Jesse said. “It’s just a music lesson. I shouldn’t be there for more than a couple hours.”

“What’s the name of the older brother again?” Reyes asked.

“Hanzo,” Jesse said.

“Hanzo. He’s a good looking boy, isn’t he.”

“He is. Just about the most beautiful boy I ever saw.”

“Jesse,” his commander said. “Seriously, watch yourself, ok?”

The boy’s face flushed and he fidgeted uneasily under his commander’s keen eye. “What do you mean, boss?”

“I mean don’t piss off the Shimada clan by fucking the master’s heir. It’d be war.”

“I don’t think there’s much chance of that, boss. He don’t like me very much. I think he agreed to teach me to play out of plain courtesy.”

“Alright, Jesse. Just be careful.”

“Course I will. Say, you hear anything from Commander Morrison?”

“No, but I didn’t expect to. He won’t risk communicating with us unless it’s something big. Now let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Jesse returned to the castle the next day at fifteen minutes before noon. He found the gate guards fully instructed and expecting his arrival. They opened the gate and bowed as he approached, telling him that the young master would see him in the tea house in the garden. He made his way to the indicated structure, where he found the young master serenely waiting with his instrument already set up. Jesse mumbled an apology for being late.

“You are precisely on time, Mr. McCree,” Hanzo said.

“Please, just Jesse.”

“Jesse,” his host said, adding a kind of breathed quality to the vowels that gave the name an unfamiliar ring in its owner’s ears.

“Well, I’ll be,” Jesse said. “You say my own name better’n I do. How do you get it to float around way up in the air like that?”

This appeared to have annoyed his host, and Jesse was instantly uncomfortable, which made him defensive. He shut his mouth tightly and turned away to set his guitar down.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said.

The cowboy turned around to face him and waited.

After a pause, the young man continued, “You must excuse my delays in responding to you. My English is not strong, and your nonstandard vernacular is…difficult for me.”

“My—my nonstandard vernacular,” Jesse repeated.

“Yes. You speak very quickly and you use idioms and turns of phrase with which I am not familiar. I pause because I am attempting to understand. I do not mean to offend you.”

Jesse was stunned. Had that been it? Had he been assuming this man hated him because of a language problem?

“Oh boy, I’m real sorry,” he said. “I get ahead of myself and I forget some folks ain’t accustomed to my way of talkin’. Don’t feel bad, though. Most people from my own country can’t understand me either.”

This statement elicited a smile from the stoic young archer. Jesse thought it was the prettiest smile to ever light up the world, but he knew better than to say so. His host directed him to sit beside him and began to instruct him in the basic theory of the instrument, which was similar enough to the guitar so that Jesse wasn’t entirely lost. Then the young man played some basic scales so Jesse could observe the placement of the hands. He couldn’t help turning his head now and again to look at that lovely face, and his host was not unaware of the fact. He thought he’d been particularly sly about it, but suddenly the young man looked up at him and caught him in the act.

“Jesse,” he said.

“Hm?”

“Are you paying attention?”

“Uh huh,” Jesse said absently. “I’m payin’ attention.”

His host smiled again, a very slight but genuine smile, and returned to the task. Jesse tried a few notes, then Hanzo adjusted his hand position, then they repeated the process. Jesse made his best effort, but he found his hands would cease to function properly when his instructor touched them, and so he couldn’t get more than half a scale out before he lost the plot. But they persevered until Jesse was able to play a full scale on his own. Then they moved on to a basic melody. After the third or fourth attempt, Jesse was able to play the first part. He was exceedingly pleased. The other young man took his hands and adjusted them again. Jesse began to pluck at the strings, but then his heart skipped a beat and he froze in place. The other set of hands had remained resting on his. He cast a sidelong glance at his instructor, to find that he was gazing up at him.

“Jesse,” the young man said. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Jesse blinked at him stupidly, attempting to ascertain whether he’d actually just heard those words, or was losing his grip on his sanity.

“Would I—you…I uh, yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, please,” he managed at last.

The archer lifted his hands and placed them on the sides of the cowboy’s handsome face. He leaned in and cautiously brushed his lips against Jesse’s. Jesse took him by the sleeve and collar and pulled him closer. He pushed the other boy’s lips apart with his own, caressing his tongue and inhaling his intoxicating scent. His head spun. He was dizzy and breathless. He felt the kiss in his entire being. Hanzo drew away, blushing like a rose, and looked at the ground.

“What’s the matter darlin’,” Jesse said softly.

“I—I am not certain I did that correctly,” Hanzo said falteringly. “I apologize for my…lack of experience.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it was perfect,” Jesse said. “The most perfect kiss in the history of time, maybe.”

The archer didn’t look up, but he laid his head on the cowboy’s broad chest and allowed his long, silky hair to be stroked. Jesse wrapped his strong arms securely around the other boy's body.

Before he could think to stop himself, he asked, “Have you…have you never kissed a boy before?”

“I have never kissed anyone before,” the archer answered quietly.

He raised his eyes to look into Jesse’s. Jesse stared down at his beautiful captive. It was impossible. How was it that no one had ever kissed those perfect lips. This boy couldn’t be real. All at once, the stoic young master was entirely transformed in Jesse’s eyes. Still the same in essence, but as if viewed through an altered lens. Pristine angles where Jesse had seen hard edges before. Refined diffidence where he had seen haughty aloofness. He saw through the mask to the vulnerable, unworldly young man beneath.

“But…did you like it?” Jesse asked.

The black-eyed angel smiled shyly and turned away again.

“Yes. I liked it very much,” he said. “I would like to kiss you again, if that would be acceptable to you.”

Jesse answered by kissing him again, this time with more urgency. The archer gasped and gave a little groan. His body went slack and pliant in Jesse’s arms. Jesse suddenly felt powerful, masculine, almost omnipotent, exhilarated by the keen sweetness of the other young man’s ready submission to his desire. In direct contradiction and at the same time, he knew he had been utterly conquered. Knocked down. Defeated. No quarter given or requested. He would be this boy’s willing slave, a dog at his feet if he wished it, from this moment on. He was in love.

“Acceptable,” Jesse said, laughing blithely. “Darlin’ I don’t want to do anything else but just kiss you forever and ever.”

His darling frowned thoughtfully. “Jesse, that would be very impractical. How would you eat and drink? You would starve to death.”

“Sure I would, but what’s that to me,” the cowboy said fervently, squeezing his quarry tight, as if to prevent his escape. “Let me starve to death, I say. If I die kissing those lips, I’ll die a happy man and that’s that.”

The absurd idea coupled with Jesse’s theatrical delivery elicited an actual laugh from the young master. A low, soft laugh that was music to Jesse’s ears. It was the first time he’d heard it. He laughed as well, from pure delight in the suddenly and drastically altered state of their interaction. The archer allowed his impetuous cowboy to kiss him again, then gently freed himself.

“I must go to my training now,” he said, standing and straightening his loose-fitting tunic. “May I walk you to the gate?”

“Well, sure,” Jesse said cheerfully, but with a hint of disappointment. “I can find it on my own, though, if you need to get goin’.”

Hanzo stood thinking for a moment.

“Jesse,” he said. “You told me that you had never seen a person use a bow. If that is something that interests you, you would be welcome to observe my exercises.”

“That is something that interests me very much,” Jesse said, raising his eyebrows. “You sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. Do you shoot?”

“Not with a bow. But if I’m lucky, I can hit the broad side of a barn with a revolver.”

“Would you like to practice together, then? I can have ballistic targets prepared.”

“I’d love to,” the cowboy said, “but I don’t have a weapon on me.”

“You may borrow one from the armory. It is no trouble.”

“Armory?”

“Yes.”

Jesse appeared perplexed.

“I am certain you are aware of the nature of my family’s business.”

“I’m not, though. I mean, I heard a rumor about rival clans or something, but I ain’t a hundred percent clear on what that means.”

Hanzo clarified. “We operate a powerful trade syndicate. Within the law, but close to its edges. In our profession, we are often required to defend ourselves from other such syndicates who seek to encroach upon our livelihood, sometimes with violent force. As such, we are trained thoroughly in combat, armed and unarmed, as a matter of course. We also keep a store of weapons at our disposal, should the need arise.”

“That a fact,” Jesse said, pushing his hat back to express his appreciation of the sentiment. “I guess that’s just plain prudent, then.”

“It is. My life and the lives of my family have been threatened many times.”

“You ever scared?”

“Once,” the archer said. “When I was six years old. I was traveling in a car with my father. We were stopped by a roadblock and armed men assaulted the vehicle. My father killed two of the men, and our guards dispensed with the others. It was over very quickly and I was unharmed. But I was afraid, yes. Now, I am not.”

Jesse eyed his friend closely. He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man to get scared. He looked like the kind of man other men feared and were right to do so. There was a detached, calculating quality to him that Jesse hadn’t observed before. This young man was dangerous. A killer, his mind whispered. He pushed the thought away and returned to the immediate subject.

“Well I pity the dumb son of a bitch who comes lookin’ for trouble with you, darlin’,” he said. “I remember that arrow stickin’ out of the target dead-center.”

The archer smiled and bowed, pleased with the good-humored reference to their inauspicious meeting.

“Hey, Hanzo,” Jesse said. “How old are you, anyway?”

“I am eighteen years old,” he replied.

Jesse was dumbstruck again. This formidable man was actually younger than him.

“I’ll be damned,” he said. “I’m older than you, then. Wait, how old is Genji?”

“He is sixteen.”

“Sixteen!” He whistled through his teeth. “See, I woulda swore he was my age and you was five or six years older, on account of you bein’ so serious and cultured and all.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” the young man said, looking up at his friend.

“It’s meant for one, but it’s just true, too. Genji, on the other hand...he had me kinda worried with all the drinkin’ and I won’t rest no easier knowin’ he’s already took on like that at sixteen.”

“It is a matter of deep concern for me, as well. I do not wish to see my brother destroy himself. But he is troubled in his spirit and I do not know the remedy.”

“Why don’t your pa do somethin’ about it?”

“My father does not share my opinion in this matter. He dismisses my concerns as pettiness and tale-bearing. So I watch over my brother and make certain no harm comes to him when he behaves recklessly. It is all I am able to do.”

Jesse wanted to take the other boy in his arms again, but he was certain such an embrace wouldn’t be welcome at that moment.

“You’re a good brother, Hanzo,” he said. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Jesse. I intend to be so.”

They walked together to the aforementioned armory, a mind-boggling arsenal kept in a massive, concrete-walled basement beneath the castle. Hanzo spoke with the guard while Jesse browsed the selection of weapons. He chose a Colt Single-Action Army revolver, which he was delighted to discover on a rack among the other handguns, and the two made their way to the practice range. Ballistics targets had appeared as if by magic, and the stone wall behind them was covered by a large, movable barrier made of tightly-packed hay bales.

“After you,” Hanzo said courteously, motioning toward the wall of targets.

Jesse stood contemplating the scene, hefting and spinning the revolver in his hand to get a feel for its weight and balance.

“Tell you what,” he said. “How’s about you shoot first. Six shots. Then I’ll try to get as close to your arrows as I can.”

The young archer assented to this and nocked an arrow to his bow. Jesse stepped a polite distance behind him and watched as six arrows swiftly struck the center marks of six targets.

“Yeehaw!” he exclaimed. “That’s some fine shooting, there, archer.”

Hans bowed in acknowledgement of the compliment and stepped back to make room for Jesse.

“What do you say my chances are,” Jesse said, smiling mischievously. “Think I can get close?”

His friend eyed him dubiously and laughed at the proposition.

“Alright, then. Let’s see just how rusty I am.”

With a rapid-fire report, so quick it almost sounded like a string of firecrackers, Jesse emptied the six-chamber barrel. Hanzo stood frozen in undisguised awe. In the center marks of six targets lay the splintered fragments of six exploded arrows. Jesse stepped back and playfully nudged his friend.

“Not as rusty as I thought,” he said.

“How…how did you learn to shoot like that?” the archer said at last.

Jesse grinned wickedly and tipped his hat to his friend with the barrel of the revolver. “I told you fellas I was a famous outlaw.”

“I have never seen such a thing. I—” his words were arrested by a kiss on the mouth from the triumphant sharpshooter.

They stepped apart just in time for Genji, who had been disturbed by the thunder of gunfire, to miss the boldly affectionate gesture entirely.

“Jesse,” he called out, delighted to see his friend. “What are you two doing? I heard gunshots.”

“I’m showin’ your brother here how the west was won,” the cowboy replied, spinning revolver around his finger. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, no, I was studying for an examination. I did not know you were coming or I would have been out to see you much sooner. When did you arrive?”

“Oh, a couple hours ago. Hanzo has kindly agreed to teach me how to play that weird little floor guitar of his.”

“Koto,” the older brother said.

“Koto,” Jesse repeated, smiling broadly. “I don’t mean to brag or nothin’, but I can make it sound just like a bag of angry cats.”

Genji enjoyed this little joke thoroughly and Hanzo smiled stiffly.

“Perhaps the two of you would like to take some refreshment,” the archer said. “I must continue my exercises.”

“That is my brother’s way of asking us to go away and stop bothering him,” Genji said. “Jesse, have you had lunch?”

“I haven’t, but I can’t keep intruding on you folks’ hospitality at mealtimes. You’ll get to thinkin’ I only come for the food.”

“Nonsense, Mr. McCree,” Hanzo said. “We are more than happy to share our good fortune.”

Genji rolled his eyes and grabbed Jesse’s arm.

“Come on,” he said. “Please let us go before my brother embarrasses me any more.”

As he was being dragged bodily away from the object of his affection by an impatient, green-haired teenager, Jesse turned and looked back wistfully. The archer smiled and dipped his head, communicating everything Jesse wanted to know. Then he went with the younger brother more willingly and in a better humor.

Genji was annoyed by his brother’s comment about their good fortune, taking it as a slight to Jesse’s wayward condition, and said so.

“Well, if he meant any offense, I didn’t take none, so it don’t matter much,” Jesse said. “But I do think he was just tryin’ to be polite. Your brother ain’t half so bad as he comes off. I mean, he did agree to teach me to play that koto for nothin’ but me showin’ him a thing or two on the guitar.”

“That is a strange bargain, cowboy,” Genji said.

“How do you figure?”

“He knows how to play guitar. He plays very well.”

“Peculiar,” Jesse said, scratching his chin. “Well, who knows. Maybe he was just bein’ charitable.”

“That does not sound like Hanzo,” Genji persisted. “What is he up to, I wonder…Aha!”

“Aha?”

“Jesse, my brother is trying to steal you from under my nose!”

“Come again?” the baffled cowboy said. “Steal me? How do you mean? I ain’t a wallet, I’m a person.”

“Simple,” Genji said, putting on the air of a television detective about to reveal how he had uncovered a dastardly plot. “He has no friends of his own, and no one likes him. No one but you, for some reason. So he has decided to make himself agreeable to you and to turn you against me so that he will have you all to himself.”

“I don’t think that’s it, Genj,” Jesse said, laughing outright. “I don’t see why I can’t be friends with both of y’all.”

The boy considered this for a moment.

“I suppose you could,” he said doubtfully. “But I do not know why you would want to. My brother is very boring and he worries about everything. He is like an old hen.”

Jesse’s mind was still aglow with the soft, sweet longing of that kiss in the tea house.

“Maybe,” he said dreamily. “But maybe an old hen is just what fellas like you and me need sometimes.”

“You are very tolerant, Jesse, but you will grow weary of his mothering soon enough,” Genji said decisively.

Jesse doubted he would, but he didn’t say so. He imagined being fussed over and supervised by that stern, beautiful young man. Falling asleep to the strains of his koto and waking up to his kisses. Even being scolded by that perfect creature and made to comb his hair and pick up after himself sounded like his idea of heaven. He changed the subject.

“What kind of examination you studyin’ for?” he asked.

“Differential calculus. It is necessary to complete my secondary education.”

“Secondary education?”

“It is what Americans call high school. I am almost finished.”

“Already? Ain’t you young for that yet?”

“I suppose so. But I would prefer to get it done quickly rather than linger over it. How long did it take you to finish yours?”

“Even faster, bein’ as I never bothered to begin. Ain’t much time for school and things when a body has to work the way I did.”

“You never went to high school?” his friend said in a tone of hushed awe. “How did you learn to read and write?”

“My ma taught me those things before I went to primary school,” Jesse laughed. “I ain’t illiterate, just educated differently. I can’t list the dates of important battles and whatnot, but I can sure as shit tell you how to win one.”

“That seems to be a preferable manner of education,” his friend said. “Eminently more practical.”

“That it is,” Jesse agreed heartily. “Say, Genj, Hanzo was tellin’ me about how your family’s been havin’ some trouble with a rival clan. Y’all ever have any real serious brawls with ‘em, like the Hatfields and McCoys?”

“There have been none since I can remember,” Genji said. “But my father and brother were attacked when I was three or four years old. That was the last serious engagement. It is mostly a proxy conflict now.”

“How so?”

“Their subsidiary organizations making trouble for ours and vice versa. A direct assault on us would be unwise, since it would be costly and attract the attention of the police, most of whom are loyal to us.”

“Y’all got the cops in your pocket?” Jesse said, genuinely impressed.

“Not in our pockets,” Genji laughed. “But many are members of families that are under the protection of our clan. We are loyal to them and they are loyal in return.”

“I bet that works out nice. Ain’t much petty crime in your city, is there?”

“None at all, as far as I know,” Genji said. “It would be foolish to risk the displeasure of the Shimadas by committing a small offense in their home town.”

“It would, indeed,” Jesse said.

The two friends chatted pleasantly about clan warfare and assassinations and sabotage while lunch was served to them in the main hall of the brothers’ shared space. The servants had taken away the dishes and Jesse was tuning his guitar to play something for his friend, when Hanzo entered the room, looking very grave and pale.

“Jesse,” he said, looking back and forth between his brother and the cowboy, “my father, Shimada Sojiro, would like to make your acquaintance. He requests the pleasure of your presence in his drawing room as soon as is convenient for you.”

Genji’s face drained of color as well.  

“That means right now, Jesse,” he said in a stifled whisper. “Brother, should I come, too?”

“You are also wanted, yes. All three of us,” Hanzo replied. He looked positively sick.

If Jesse felt any apprehension at the prospect of a face-to-face meeting with the old warlord, he didn’t show it. He stood languidly, stretching his long arms and straightening his shirt, then he tossed his hat onto a table and gave his hair a rake with his fingers.

“That’s mighty hospitable of your pa, wantin’ to meet me,” he said. “We best not keep him waiting.”


	7. The Master

Jesse, Hanzo, and Genji crossed the compound at a steady pace governed by Jesse, who flatly refused to be hurried along. The young archer glanced up at him several times, as if he were trying to read the American’s thoughts, but he kept his eyes fixed resolutely ahead. His strong, square jaw was set firmly and his bright brown eyes betrayed no hint of what was in his mind. Jesse hadn’t survived this long by showing fear in the face of danger and he wasn’t about to start now.

They entered the main hall of Shimada castle through a massive double door, carved with a mural depicting roaring dragons, and held open by silent sentries. They strode through the vast main hall to another set of double doors, smaller, but just as ornately carved and with the addition of being either plated or painted gold. Another pair of guards opened the doors and closed them behind the boys as they passed inside. As they stepped into the richly adorned drawing room, Jesse took note of six more armed guards and their positions. They were stationed to the left and right of a little raised dais, on which was a large chair carved of white stone. Before the chair stood the master of the Shimada clan.

The three boys stopped about five feet from the dais and stood facing the master. The man himself was a surprisingly handsome older gentleman dressed in a black European-cut business suit. His long black hair was knotted neatly at the back of his head, and his short beard was salted with grey. He stood looking directly at Jesse while Hanzo bowed and said something in Japanese, which Jesse took to be an introduction.

“Jesse McCree,” the man said, looking him up and down.

Jesse bowed to a 45 degree angle, holding that position for two full seconds, as he’d been instructed by the commander. Then he raised his eyes to meet the man’s gaze, standing to his full six feet and squaring his shoulders.

“Shimada Sama,” he said properly. “I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

“Jesse McCree,” the man repeated, “what is your business in Hanamura?”

Jesse’s instinct for traps was far too quick to let him be caught in one this obvious.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” he said, “but it seems you know my business already.”

“Indulge me,” the man said, spreading out his hands, palm upward.

“The Imagawa clan has made a hostile advance on me and my organization,” Jesse said. “I’m here to see what I can do about makin’ ‘em think twice before they try it again, sir.”

Both brothers stared at him in undisguised amazement.

“You are aware of the enmity between my family and the Imagawa Clan?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Is this the reason you have befriended my sons? To gain some advantage over your enemies?”

“No, sir, I met your younger son after I arrived here. I didn’t know him from Adam, and the meeting was pure chance. He very generously offered to show me ‘round the city. My intention was to take special care not to offend you or your people, so I thought it’d be unwise to refuse an offer of hospitality.”

“Is that the truth, Mr. McCree?” the man said severely.

Jesse’s unwavering eye glinted.

“If you don’t mind me speakin’ frankly, sir, I take you to be the kind of man who knows a liar when he sees one,” he said evenly. “Do I strike you as a dishonest man?”

“But you have deceived my sons, Mr. McCree. That is dishonest, is it not?”

“You must understand why I’d have to keep my particular business to myself, sir. Otherwise, I told your sons the naked truth about who I am. I told ‘em my real name and all about my life, just as far as I was able to without violating a direct order from my commander.”

“And where is your commander?”

“Here in the city,” Jesse said. “But you knew that, too, sir.”

“I did,” the master said.

He seated himself in the stone chair and sat gazing keenly at Jesse. A slight suggestion of a smile played across his lips.

“I would like to meet your commander, Mr. McCree. Are you able to contact him?”

“Yes sir, I am. I could raise him by sat-radio, or use the plain old telephone. But I ain’t about to feed him to the lions to save my own skin.”

“I suppose,” the man said slowly, “that I could dispose of you now and apprehend him myself.”

“Yes sir, you could,” Jesse said steadily. “But I don’t think you will. Way I see it, if you wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead. But it ain’t in your interest to pick a fight with people whose intentions toward you and your family are friendly for the moment.”

Much to the astonishment of his terrified sons, the man threw his head back and laughed heartily.

“You are a very bold young man, Mr. McCree,” he said. “I see that your reputation is well-earned.”

“That’s mighty kind of you, sir,” Jesse said, bowing slightly. “I do my best.”

“If I give you my word that your commander will not be harmed, will you communicate my invitation to him?”

“I will, sir. If you give me your word not to harm or detain him.”

“Very well, Mr. McCree. I give you my word that neither you nor your commander will be harmed or detained. Unless, of course, you provoke it by your own actions.”

“That’s fair enough, sir. Should I call him now?”

The man appeared to consider for a moment, then said, “No. I would prefer that you relay my invitation to him in person. Please tell him his presence at Shimada Castle is cordially requested for the hour of noon, tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” Jesse said.

“You may go. Mr. McCree,” the man said, standing and bowing. “I will expect to see you both tomorrow at noon.”

“Thank you kindly, sir,” Jesse said, returning the bow with interest. “We’ll be here.”

He nodded to the brothers and strode calmly out of the drawing room. The moment he was safely outside, his head whirled and his knees shook so that he almost toppled over. He stopped and leaned against the smooth bole of a cherry tree while he caught his breath, then he hurried to Genji’s room to collect his hat and guitar. He was on his way to the front gate when he met Genji coming down the path to find him.

“Jesse!” Genji said, grabbing his arm. “That was unbelievable!”

“Hey, Genj,” Jesse said. “I’m real sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth up front. But I really do like you and I wanted to be your friend for real. It wasn’t an act or nothin’.”

Genji waved the apology away.

“I like you, too, Jesse. I am glad we are friends,” he said excitedly. “And my father likes you! I have never heard him speak in that manner to a stranger. I came to tell you, though, he has made you free to enter the castle without an escort and to make use of the grounds at your pleasure. That means you have the same privileges as a clan member! What did you do to impress him so much?”

Jesse pushed the brim of his hat back and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I can’t rightly say,” he said. “Maybe him and the boss know each other or somethin’.”

“The boss?”

“Commander Reyes,” he said. “I work for him directly, but the two of us work for…someone else. Say, where’s Hanzo? I thought he was gonna have kittens he looked so upset.”

“Have kittens?” Genji blinked, then laughed aloud. “He may be having kittens, yes. My father dismissed me after you left, but he said they still had some business to discuss. But Jesse! I wish I had known that you were a spy! This is very exciting. You are a real life Jesse James and James Bond, too!”

“It ain’t as exciting as all that,” Jesse said modestly. “I never get to wear fancy suits or play poker at casinos or anything.”

“Do you ever meet beautiful women?”

“Not a chance,” Jesse laughed. “I meet a lot of ugly Russians, though.”

Genji looked a little disappointed, but he was not to be deterred.

“I would like to be a spy if I could fly around the world seducing beautiful girls and jumping from planes and shooting bad guys,” he said. “I do not think I would ever be bored then.”

“My kind of work ain’t really like that. And it does get powerful boring sometimes, sittin’ around in the dirt and mud for days at a time waitin’ for my targets.”

Genji’s ears perked up. “Targets?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said reluctantly. “I’m…sort of a sharpshooter. High value military or criminal targets only. No women or kids. We are the good guys, after all.”

“Wow,” Genji breathed. “You are a hero, then. Just as I thought.”

Jesse rejected the term out of hand, but Genji ignored him and chattered on enthusiastically as they walked.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked as they arrived at the gate.

“Well, I’m gonna tell the boss we’re wanted tomorrow and then I suppose I’ll have some dinner and go to bed. That meeting with your father took it out of me somethin’ fierce. I never been so scared in my life.”

“Really? Were you scared? You looked very cool and calm to me. Like Clint Eastwood in the western movies.”

“Did I? I’m glad to hear it, then. I thought I was quakin’ so’s the building would fall in on me.”

“Not a bit,” Genji said, grinning broadly. “I will see you tomorrow. Good evening, Jesse!”

The two waved goodbye and the cowboy walked away from the castle toward his hotel. He got out his radio and attached the pieces, then signaled the commander.

“What’s up, Jesse? Everything alright?” Reyes came back promptly.

“Yeah, it’s alright, boss,” Jesse said. “I’m on my way in right now. You at home?”

“Yep.”

“Good. I’ve got somethin’ to tell you. I’ll see you in ten.”

He spent his walk to the hotel sick with anxiety regarding the older brother. Was he angry that Jesse had kept this from him? Would he forgive him? Would he ever kiss him again? He found he was almost in tears at the prospect of losing such a precious thing. He didn’t care about he mission anymore. Not the Imagawa clan, not the investigation, not even the danger to his own life. All he wanted was to see that beautiful face smiling at him, letting him know it was alright. He ached desperately to take that boy in his arms again. Kiss him. Tell him how he loved him more than his own life and would do anything to be with him. What had his father detained him for anyway? What was the business they were discussing? A knot of terror tightened in his stomach. What if someone had observed them together and told the father? But no, the man wouldn’t have been so agreeable and complimentary if he suspected Jesse of unseemly behavior with his eldest son. He hoped it was something else. He smoothed the care from his face as he took the elevator up to his room, and entered with no trace of it remaining.

The commander looked up expectantly from his seat in front of his computer display.

“Boss,” Jesse said, setting down his guitar case. “I’m glad you’re already sittin’ down. Cause the master of the Shimada clan has cordially requested our presence at Shimada Castle tomorrow at noon.”

The commander stared at him.

“What the fuck are you telling me, Jesse?” he said. “Sojiro Shimada wants to see us? Myself included?”

“Face to face, boss. He knew you was here and everything already.”

Jesse recounted his meeting with the old master in scrupulous detail, leaving out only his personal distress over the elder son.

“What made you tell him about our mission?” the commander said.

“I didn’t tell him a thing about it he didn’t know already, boss,” Jesse said, more than a little offended. “My gut told me he knew all about who we was, why we was here, the whole shebang, and I better not risk pissin' him off by lying. I judged he was a man of his word, so I decided to throw the dice and tell the truth.”

“You made the right call, son,” the man said. “I didn’t mean that as a complaint. So I suppose we better go to this meeting, then.”

“I reckon.”

“You think we’re walking into a trap?”

“Naw, it ain’t a trap like that, boss,” Jesse said, trying to frame his impressions in words. “He don’t mean us no immediate harm. But he’s got somethin’ up his sleeve I bet we won’t see comin’. I can’t rightly say what it is, but he spent the whole time we was talkin’ sizin’ me up real close, like he was tryin’ to suss out somethin’ about me. And he had this look like he knew somethin’ I didn’t know, too.”

“Doesn’t look like we have much choice, even if it is a trap.”

“Don’t look that way, no. I can’t imagine we’d get out of the city alive if we tried to bolt.”

“No, and he wanted us to know it. He sent you back to me in person to demonstrate just how in his power we are. If he thought we could get away, we'd be under lock and key.”

The commander shook his head resignedly. He took the cigarette Jesse had just lit out of the boy’s mouth and sat back in his chair smoking it. Jesse lit another for himself without skipping a beat.

“Say boss, you think we oughta show up in the ratty duds we got with us? I mean, the place is mighty fancy and he was dressed up real fine. Maybe we should try to show respect by wearin’ somethin’ less comfortable.”

“Where are we going to get something like that? And my clothes aren’t ratty.”

“They ain’t ratty boss, but you’re wearin’ a knit cap and a hoodie. You look like a burglar. Or a rapper.”

“Listen here, pendejo—”

“Come on, boss,” Jesse said in a cajoling tone. “I bet you look pretty intimidating in a suit, what with them big square shoulders of yours. There’s a men’s clothing shop down the block. Least we can do is get a jacket to wear with our jeans and boots.”

The man reluctantly assented to the proposition, and even sat patiently in the shop while Jesse tried on eleven different jackets. In the end, they purchased two button-front shirts, two jackets, and a couple of silk handkerchiefs, which Jesse insisted they must have, to the endless annoyance of his commander. Endless, that is, until Jesse remarked on how handsome he looked in the grey suit jacket, which he grumbled about and pretended didn’t please him.

After their errand was complete, they returned to the room and ordered supper from the hotel’s room service menu. Jesse laid in bed smoking and flipping through his phrase book while the commander scanned the agency’s online database for more intel on Shimada Sojiro.

“Jesse,” he said, turning to the reclining boy. “I should have mentioned your conduct in that situation. You behaved like a real soldier. It was honorable to refuse to lead me into what could have been a trap. But I don’t want you sacrificing yourself to protect me. Not ever.”

“Well, that’s too fuckin’ bad, ain’t it, boss,” the boy said, not looking up from his book. “Cause I reckon if the situation comes up again, you won’t be no position to stop me.”

“When did I let you start talking to me this way?” the man said, shaking his head dolefully. “And ordering me around so much. Suit jackets! What’s gotten into you?”

The boy looked up at him seriously. “You really want to know, boss?”

“More than anything.”

“Well, you recall how I said in a kinda joking way that one time that maybe I’d meet my true love in Japan?”

“Jesse, no,” the man said, a look of genuine horror on his face. “Jesse tell me you are not in love with Hanzo Shimada. That boy is eighteen years old and the son of a murderous warlord!”

“Don’t be mad.”

“Mad? Boy…”

“Yeah, it’s the, uh, the son of that murderous warlord.”

“Sweet mother of god,” the man said, massaging his brow with one hand. “Jesse what the fuck. You had one job. Don’t piss off the Shimada clan. Does the father know about it?”

“I reckon he don’t, seein’ as he let me go instead of cuttin’ my throat where I stood.”

“But Jesse, you’ve known those boys for three days. How can you already be in love?”

“How long did it take you to know you was in love with Commander Morrison?”

The man gazed at the floor.

“About sixty seconds,” he said, with a defeated sigh. “Alright, I take your point. But you’re playing with fire. Does the boy know?”

“If he don’t, I reckon he will soon.”

The man knew his young friend too well to attempt push the argument further at that moment. He went to bed early and lay awake for a long while, thinking through the possible outcomes of the situation. None ended well. He fell asleep with that thought hanging over him like a black cloud.

At exactly 11:59 am the next day, Jesse and Commander Reyes entered the master’s drawing room. They bowed properly and the master rose to greet them. Jesse glanced up at his commander. The man was standing perfectly still with an expression on his face that Jesse couldn’t quite interpret. The master bowed formally, but his eye appeared to be twinkling with some merriment.

“Gabriel,” he said. “It has been a long time. You look very well for a man of your age.”

“A very long time, Ryuu,” the commander replied. “You look well for a man who has been dead for twenty-five years.”

The master stepped down from the dais, and he and the commander shook hands warmly. It was clear to Jesse that he was witnessing the meeting of old friends, a fact which raised far more questions than it answered.

“I never thought I’d be looking at your ugly mug again,” Reyes said. “What happened to you? What are you doing here?”

“This world is filled with strange chances, Gabriel,” the master said, smiling placidly. He cast an almost admiring gaze on Jesse. “It appears that after all these years, our sons have met by such a chance and have become friends.”

“Jesse is not my son,” the commander said. “He works for me and is my best agent. But yes, they met by chance and it does seem that they’ve become friends. Jesse speaks very highly of your boys.”

“Ah,” the master said, bowing a polite apology. “Please forgive my error.”

“No apology is necessary, Ryuu,” the commander said, returning the bow.

Then the master turned to Jesse. “Why don’t you go and find the boys, Jesse,” he said. “My friend and I have much to speak of.”

Jesse looked to his commander, who nodded his assent, and so Jesse exited the drawing room, feeling very much like a child dismissed to his play while adults spoke of serious matters.

He headed straight for the boys’ quarters, with an eye to catching Hanzo and making an attempt to explain himself. He was nowhere to be found inside, so Jesse tried the archery range. No luck. Then he caught a faint melody floating out from the garden. The koto. Of course. He must be out there playing. Jesse made his way around and saw the object of his desire sitting under the tea house canopy before the koto. He approached softly, but the archer’s keen ear caught the scrape of footsteps and he ceased playing.

“Hey there, darlin’,” Jesse said apprehensively.

The other boy remained seated with his back to him.

“Mr. McCree,” he said. “Please do not disturb my meditation. I am in need of it today.”

“Mr. McCree?” Jesse repeated. “Can your meditation wait? I wanted to talk to you about—”

“Mr. McCree,” the young master said flatly, “you have obtained what you wanted. We can have nothing further to say to each other.”

“What I wanted?” Jesse asked, genuinely perplexed.

“You have gained access to my father. You need not persist in making pretense of—”

“That’s it,” Jesse cut him off abruptly. He’d expected the boy to be angry, but he’d never imagined it would be for this reason. His native pride flared again. “That’s about all of that I’ll listen to. What do you mean by it? You mean to suggest I was usin’ you to get in your pa’s good graces?”

The young man remained stonily silent. Jesse stepped around him and picked up the instrument before Hanzo could stop him. He moved it aside and stood before the young man. Hanzo got to his feet and turned to walk away, but Jesse took him by both wrists and held him fast.

“Let go of me,” the archer said, his black eyes burning with indignation.

“I won’t,” Jesse said. “Not till you hear me out.”

To Jesse’s utter astonishment, the young man freed himself with a fierce wrench and knocked him backward with a swift blow to the chest. Though the blow was only a defensive gesture and didn’t cause him any physical pain, he felt it in his entire body. He’d been struck by the person he loved more than life. Jesse stared at the young man, stunned and heartbroken.

“Han—Hanzo,” he stammered. “Please.”

The other boy turned on his heel and strode rapidly away, disappearing into the garden. Jesse collapsed into a sitting position on the ground. He was utterly wretched. His stomach turned and his head spun, and he found he could do nothing to stop the hot flood of tears that ran down his face and splashed onto the front of his shirt and jacket. Had he known that, at that moment, the other young man was weeping much in the same way, he would have rushed to him, taken him in his arms despite any protest, and kissed away every one of those precious tears. But he did not know. So, as is customary in such situations, he wept alone in the garden and despaired of his life.


	8. Sea Urchin and Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: EXPLICIT SEX
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> 
> F*CKING FINALLY

Jesse sat in the garden weeping like a child. Let us forgive him however, because he was, in all fairness, only nineteen years old. And he was experiencing his first heartbreak. He wept because he had been abandoned and rejected by his love, then that he had been too much a coward to pursue him, then at the cruelty of life and fate in general. It was in this state that his young friend Genji found him. He saw Jesse in the tea house from a little distance, so he hurried to meet him. By the time he realized his friend was weeping, it was too late for him to discreetly turn back and spare him the embarrassment of being seen in such a condition, so he came cautiously to the steps of the round structure and greeted Jesse softly.

“Hello, Jesse,” he said. “I hope you are well.”

“I ain’t well at all, Genj. I’ll never be well again and I don’t care to. I think I’m fixin’ to die.”

“Jesse, what happened,” his friend said anxiously, kneeling down to peer into his face. “I will get the doctor. You will be alright, I promise.”

“Your brother,” Jesse said despondently, “he—he hit me.”

“Hanzo hit you?” the boy said, his face hardening with anger. “He cannot have hit you hard enough to make you want to die, though.”

“No, it ain’t that. I was just—he just…he hit me and I’m rattled is all.”

“I will kill him,” Genji said, leaping up.

“No, Genji, please,” Jesse said, in a panicked tone that startled his friend. “Please don’t say anything to him. Please, I don’t want him to know I was like this.”

“I am sorry, Jesse,” Genji said, sitting back down. “I will not interfere in your argument. But you are sad and my brother has made you sad. I would like to make him understand that he cannot abuse my friend.”

“He didn’t abuse me,” Jesse said, his tears beginning to dry. “I—I wanted to talk to him and he tried to run off, so I grabbed his wrists just to make him stop a second. Then he hit me. It didn’t hurt or nothin’, it just startled me pretty bad and I got upset.”

Genji laid a sympathetic hand on his friend’s arm.

“My brother,” he said quietly, “is a fool.”

Jesse looked up quickly, trying to detect the meaning in the boy’s expression that he'd thought he heard in his tone. The boy met his gaze earnestly.

“He does not deserve you, Jesse.”

“He…he doesn’t?” Jesse replied weakly, unable to muster the energy for any kind of denial.

“No. Not if he would strike you in anger.”

“It wasn’t that kind of anger, I don’t think. He thinks I used him to get to your father.”

“Then he is an even bigger fool than I thought.”

“I know it don’t make a lick of sense,” Jesse said, encouraged by his friend’s unreserved support. “If I wanted to make your pa like me, the last way I’d go about it would be fallin’ in love with his son. Most older folks don’t cotton to that kind of thing at all, specially since we’re so young.”

“You are in love?” his friend asked in an almost reverent tone, staring wide-eyed at Jesse.

“I—what I mean is, I…fuck it. Yes. I’m in love. I’m in love with your brother. I’m so sorry, Genj. I fucked up so bad.”

“You do not need to apologize to me. I think he is unworthy of you, but nothing would please me more than to have you for a brother, too.”

This caused Jesse to begin weeping afresh, and he was exceedingly glad he’d insisted on those pocket handkerchiefs. He made liberal use of his while Genji soothed and spoke kind words to him. At last he was able to regain command of himself. He stood up and looked about miserably. Then he shook Genji’s hand and thanked him for his kindness.

“Could you get someone to tell the boss I took off? Just say I got sick or somethin’ and headed back to the hotel to rest?”

“Of course,” his friend said warmly. “Would you like me to walk home with you?”

“I don’t think so, Genj, but I appreciate the offer. I kinda need to be alone so I can cool off and get my head back in order.”

Genji assented and Jesse departed the castle, making the solitary walk again, this time orders of magnitude more miserable than he’d been the night before.

Genji relayed the message to his father’s secretary and then strode directly to his brother’s room. He threw open the door without knocking and confronted his erring sibling. Hanzo had since dried his own tears, and so it appeared to Genji that he was relaxing in his room, callously indifferent to Jesse’s suffering. This enraged him past the point of prudence. The interchange took place in their own language, but it proceeded roughly as follows.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Genji demanded, almost shouting. “Why did you hit Jesse?”

“He took hold of me and refused my request to be let go,” Hanzo replied. “I merely freed myself and made him step back.”

“You are such an unbelievable bastard.”

“I would be careful with that term, if I were you,” his brother said icily.

“You would—how dare you bring that up now! I was right. You do not deserve him. How can someone like Jesse even like you, let alone love you. You are a monster.”

“Love me…” his brother repeated numbly, as if dazed. “How can he…love me? What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You know he’s in love with you and this is how you treat him? You hit him and hurt him and then you just go about your business? You—you—” he couldn’t quite come up with a word vulgar enough, so he threw his hands up and gave a frustrated growl.

“I did not know,” his brother said quietly.

The tone in which the statement was made gave Genji pause. He turned and looked at his brother.

“You did not know it? That Jesse loves you?”

“I did not know it. I did not give him the chance to…” his voice choked with unwonted emotion and he broke off.

“You love him, too,” Genji said, his voice softening with sympathy. “Oh, brother, you are in love.”

“I—I am not.”

“You are. And he loves you, too. Go to him. Go right now before you lose him, brother,” the younger boy said, clasping his older brother’s shoulder and looking earnestly into his face.

His brother stared back at him wretchedly.

“I cannot.”

“Then you are a fool.”

 

Jesse lay in agony on his bed in the hotel room. He hadn’t bothered to pull back the bedclothes or even remove his boots. He was delirious with misery. The telephone rang shrilly and made him start and look about him for the source of the sound. After the third ring, he comprehended what it was and fumblingly picked up the receiver.

“Mr. McCree,” a youthful female voice said. “There is a man here at the desk and he says he is your friend. Would you like us to send him away?”

“No,” Jesse said hoarsely. “Send him up. Thanks.”

The commander had probably decided this was a better way of accessing the room at midday than attempting to pass the hotel's numerous personnel by stealth. After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. What, had he lost his key card, too? Jesse got up irritably and opened the door. Before him stood not his commander, but the black-eyed author of his heartache.

“May I come in?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse stepped aside for him to pass in and shut the door. He turned and stood blinking dumbly down at the young man.

“Jesse,” Hanzo began, “I should…I came to—to apologize for my behavior. I struck you and I have no excuse, but I would like to offer an explanation, so that you understand that I did not act from…from anger. Not anger directed at you.”

He paused and studied the American’s face for a clue as to how this was received. All he saw was pain. Uncomprehending pain like that of a dog that has been struck by its master. He took a deep breath and pressed on.

“What passed between us the other day was…significant to me. I made myself vulnerable to you in a way that I have not done before. You did not ask for it, I offered it of my own accord. And so, when I learned of your real business here, I was angry with myself. I felt that I should have been more vigilant. That I had placed my family in danger because I had allowed myself to be blinded by my—my foolishness.” This was not the word he’d almost used, but he’d found himself unable to pronounce it. Fortunately for him, Jesse knew it. “I lashed out at you to protect myself. From being made so vulnerable again.”

“You know it ain’t true,” Jesse said heatedly. “You know I wasn’t usin’ you to get to your daddy. Why do you want to believe it?”

“I do not believe it. I wanted to believe it because it could not be true that you…that it was only me you wanted, for my own sake. I am not worthy of—of that honor.”

Jesse shook his head slowly. “Your pa sure did a number on the two of you, didn’t he.”

“A number?”

“Yeah. An equation, for fuck’s sake. Here you are, two of the brightest, best, most talented and handsome boys probably on the planet, and Genji’s drinkin’ himself to death at sixteen and you don’t think you’re good enough for an ignorant roughneck like me. What is wrong with y’all? What makes you hate yourselves so much? Must be somethin’ your daddy did, cause it always is.”

The black eyes blinked in silence for a moment. Jesse, now aware of the language difficulty, waited patiently.

“My father is not to blame for my choices,” Hanzo said. “I am a grown man. Genji is a child. And I—I am responsible for his sickness of spirit.”

“That can’t be true, darlin’,” Jesse said. “How could that be true?”

“When we were young, I…tormented him with the circumstances of his birth.”

“How do you mean?”

“This is not a thing I tell you lightly. But I believe you care for my brother, and perhaps you will better understand him if you know.”

The young man sat on the edge of Jesse’s bed, and Jesse pulled the chair from the desk over to sit near him.

“Genji and I do not share the same mother,” his friend began. “My mother, Shimada Mayumi Chiyoko, was my father’s wife. She was chosen for him as a bride by my grandparents when he was a child and she was yet an infant. They lived in harmonious domestic tranquility, but there was never any true passion between them. My father became smitten with a beautiful young woman named Suzume, the wife of Imagawa Ichiro, the son and heir of the master of the Imagawa clan. My father seduced her into indiscretion, and she became pregnant. Disgraced and cast out by her husband, she abandoned the infant at the gates of Shimada Castle and fled. Later my father learned that she had taken her own life.

My mother took the infant to her bosom and raised it as her own. Shortly after she took the child in, she developed a wasting disease that sapped her gentle spirit over years of slow suffering. When she was released at last, my father confessed all of this to me. She never made complaint or said a harsh word to my father, but he was troubled in his heart and blamed the sorrow he had caused her by his disloyalty for her death. I was too young to comprehend such things, so I blamed the changeling infant for my mother’s sickness and death.

I told my brother the cruel truth about his mother. I told him since he had robbed me of my mother, he should not have claim to our father. I told him I would prevent my father from recognizing him so that he should bear the mark of bastard forever. My father has treated him as an equal son and raised us as brothers. But to this day he has not officially recognized Genji as his legitimate son. If my father dies, Genji will have no claim to inheritance. He will not be entitled to succeed me, should I also die. Unless my father should change and make him lawfully legitimate, or after my father’s death, I should do so. This is the reason for his sickness of spirit.”

Jesse’s face was turned toward the floor, and his elbows rested on his knees, as if he were bowed with the weight of the revelation.

“You were just a kid,” he said at last. “Children are cruel when they’re angry and suffering. After my ma died, I was so angry I couldn’t control myself. I picked fights with anyone I could get my hands on. I beat other boys bloody for no reason and I got beat bloody myself. It wasn’t my fault same way that wasn’t yours.”

“But I…I asked my father not to recognize him. I demanded it. I knew how much I reminded him of my mother, and how much he feared to lose the piece of her that was left to him. So I threatened to run away and never return. It was the only threat I could make in my childish impotence.”

“Hanzo, your daddy was a grown man. He made his own choices. You couldn’t have made him do anything he hadn’t got a mind to. The fact that he let you blame yourself for it don’t make it your fault.”

“But I am a grown man now. I am responsible for my actions.”

“That’s right, and you’re doin’ your best to be a good brother.”

“It is not enough. I cannot heal the wounds of a lifetime. Wounds I helped to create.”

“Why don’t you talk to your pa about recognizing him?”

“I spoke to him of it once. He refused. When I pressed him, he told me that the heads of the other families oppose it.”

“But I thought he was the top dog. Ain’t he kinda like y’all’s king or somethin’?”

“That was true in the feudal days, but now the master is checked in his power by a council. He is still the deciding authority, but if the other families oppose him strongly, he risks revolt by openly defying their wishes.”

“Why are all those people so keen to keep your little brother from bein’ a legal heir?”

“The believe his legitimacy would give the Imagawa family a foothold to contest with my family for the right to govern our clan.”

“That all sounds real complicated and awful,” Jesse said. “I don’t think I’d like to be part of one of y’all’s clans. No offense.”

“I take no offense. I often wish that I were not part of one.”

“Why don’t you leave? Just up and go. Live your own life and don’t let no one tell you what to do.”

“I cannot. There is far too much that depends upon me. Many people’s livelihoods would be destroyed and their very lives endangered by such a power vacuum and the resulting struggle for mastery. It would mean war.”

Jesse began to understand Hanzo better. His stoic seriousness, his haughty isolation, his apparent friendlessness, his fixation on duty and personal responsibility. You wouldn’t have time for self-indulgence if thousands of people were looking to you for their wellbeing and safety. He was staggered by the sudden awareness of the burden his young friend carried. He felt a deep sorrow and sympathy for him. He wished there were some way to ease it for him, to help him carry it. To show him that he was not alone.

“Shit,” was all he could think to say.

“Indeed,” his friend said.

“But if all that’s the case,” Jesse said, “then it seems to me you should be pretty high and mighty. I mean, it’s absurd tellin’ me all that, then expectin’ me to believe you think you ain’t good enough for a lowdown ruffian like me.”

“My circumstances of birth do not make me superior to you, Jesse. I had no part in their proceeding. My own actions, my own choices, those make me your inferior by far. I...I am a wicked person. I am unredeemable. You would hate me if you knew what I am.”

“I bet I wouldn’t,” Jesse said staunchly. “I don’t think anything in the world could change how I—could make me hate you.”

“I am a killer, Jesse,” the young man blurted out.

“How—what? What do you mean?” Jesse said, genuinely startled.

He recalled that chilling inkling of something like this he’d felt the other day when he realized Hanzo was dangerous. A killer, his mind had said.

“Because of my exceptional skills in certain areas, and due to some…specific abilities I have, my function in our organization is that of…of an assassin. I am an assassin. A murderer, many times over. I have killed, without remorse, so many that I do not know the number.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Han, but you don’t strike me as a fella who ain’t remorseful. Seems to me you torment yourself pretty much nonstop.”

“And yet I continue to kill.”

“Why?”

“For the good of the Shimada Clan. To protect its interests. And to please my father. He takes great pride in my renown as a terror to our enemies.”

“But sweetheart, that’s different than out-and-out murder just for the sake of killin’. If the commander tells me to shoot a fella, I don’t stop to make myself miserable about it. I’m just doin’ my job, same as you.”

“You have killed people?” the archer said, looking up into the cowboy’s handsome face.

“Lots,” Jesse said truthfully. “And it wasn’t always bad guys. Back when I was with the Deadlocks, I had to shoot a few train marshals that got rowdy and started unloadin' on us. I was a bad guy back then. Now I’m makin’ up for it by gettin’ rid of other bad guys so’s they can’t hurt innocent folks no more. Look, you just explained to me how much of your people’s survival depends on you. Sounds to me like you do what you have to ‘cause you got no other choice. Like you’re doin’ your duty.”

“There—there is always a choice,” Hanzo answered falteringly.

His entire, carefully constructed fortress of self-loathing was suddenly and inexplicably under assault. In danger of collapsing because of this extraordinary American and his kind words. What if he was only doing his duty? What if he was redeemable? What if he was worthy of love? The thought thrilled and terrified him, opening breathtaking vistas of possibility. What if he were to leave it all, go with this cowboy and make a new life, acting in the interest of justice, and defending the innocent and the weak. Become a hero. Become a man like Jesse. He sat in tortured indecision, thinking of the people who depended on his family. Thinking of his father and the pride he took in his excellent son. The disappointment and grief it would cause him to know his son had abandoned the family and its long, proud lineage.

Then he looked into those large, amber-brown eyes and he saw love. Simple, pure, almost animal love. He stood abruptly, and taking Jesse’s face in his hands, he kissed him hard on the mouth.

“I love you,” Jesse said breathlessly, between the boy’s urgent kisses. “Hanzo, I love you.”

“I love you, Jesse,” the black-eyed angel replied in a whisper.

“Tell me again,” Jesse said. “Tell me again and again and never stop telling me.”

“I love you,” Hanzo said, laughing softly. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Jesse, make love to me. Right now.”

“Are—are you sure?”

“I am sure,” the archer said, blushing at his own boldness. “I want to…to feel you inside me.”

He didn’t ask, but he knew instinctively that Jesse wasn’t new to sex. He found it was a great relief to him, to feel that he could surrender himself to the other young man's guidance. Trust him to steer them around the bends. Let himself be governed in that intensely intimate, visceral way. He allowed himself to be lifted in the cowboy’s strong arms, to be laid down in his bed, to be touched and embraced and undressed. His face grew hot with embarrassment at the exposure of his naked body, but he rapidly forgot his modesty in the sensation of Jesse’s hot breath on his skin as he kissed him, his warm, masculine scent, the weight of his body pressing down on him. Jesse pushed his legs apart and knelt over him, and Hanzo felt something warm and hard pressing up against him.

“Jesse,” he said in a tense whisper, “wait.”

“What is it darlin’?”

“I…I am afraid.”

“Of me?”

“It is only that…I have never been with a man. Will it—will it hurt?”

“I promise I’ll be gentle darlin’,” Jesse said softly. “But…yeah. It’ll probably hurt some.”

The black eyes gazed up at him apprehensively. “Your penis is very large, Jesse.”

Jesse blinked, went red as an apple, and then laughed aloud.

“Why is that funny?” the archer demanded, almost pouting.

“Oh, sweetheart, I ain’t laughin’ at you, only I never heard anyone talk that way.”

“What way?”

“You know, usin’ the word doctors use for your parts and whatnot.”

“What word do you use?”

“I dunno, cock? I like that cause it makes it sound kinda feisty and fun.”

The archer considered this for a moment.

“Your cock is very large, Jesse,” he said gravely.

This sent Jesse into a fresh fit of merriment, much to his beloved’s bewilderment.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he said through his laughter, “you ain’t half bad yourself.”

Then he took the other boy in his arms and kissed his face gently.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to do it if you ain’t ready,” he said. “I’m so happy just to be with you lyin’ here like this. I don’t need anything else.”

The archer lowered his long black eyelashes over those impossible eyes. “But…don’t you want me?”

“Want you?” Jesse said. “I want you so bad I could tear all my skin off. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If you cannot love me without hurting me, I am willing to accept the pain. It is worthwhile to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, you foolish cowboy.”

“I knew it, darlin’ I just wanted to make you say it again,” Jesse grinned.

He kissed the young master tenderly on the mouth, wrapping his big, warm hand around them both and stroking them together. The boy made a soft, sighing sound and closed his eyes. Jesse put two fingers in his mouth, wetting them liberally. Hanzo gave a little gasp as Jesse pushed one finger slowly inside him. Then the second finger. He moved them in and out, pushing deeper each time. At last, he held him open and began to penetrate him gradually. He was utterly intoxicated with desire for this beautiful young man, but he managed to keep his passion restrained. He worked himself slowly and deliberately into the other boy’s taut, unyielding opening, till he was inside him almost up to his pubic bone. The boy was panting and perspiring from the exertion of receiving him. He gave a cry of pain as Jesse began to move inside him. Jesse froze.

“It hurts,” Hanzo gasped. “It hurts so much.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Jesse asked anxiously.

“No. No, don’t stop. I will be alright.”

Jesse began to move again, pulling out a little and thrusting a little deeper each time.

“Ah—Jesse, it hurts,” Hanzo groaned through his teeth. “Don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

The archer’s body began to yield. The searing, tearing pain dulled and became bearable. As it did, it began to be accompanied by a deep, profound sensation of pleasure that swelled above the pain, then receded beneath it again in waves. His eyelids fluttered and his hands trembled, as if his motor control had been short-circuited by the intensity of the dueling sensations.

Jesse groaned as the other boy began to push his hips upward to meet his deep, slow thrusts. He ventured a little more force.

“Yes,” the archer said, “Yes, harder.”

The pleasure sensation was swelling and intensifying, obliterating the pain. His insides began to tighten and constrict around Jesse’s thick, solid shaft. Jesse took him in his hand to stroke him, but he pushed the hand away.

“No, don’t,” he said breathlessly. “I want to come from having you inside me. I want to come on your cock.”

That pretty little speech nearly rocketed Jesse over the edge. He made a sound like a low growl and continued to thrust in slow, even strokes.

Hanzo’s penis was rigid and hot and throbbed like it would burst.

“Jesse,” he gasped. “I…I am going to come—ah!”

He gave a long, shuddering moan. Jesse thrust harder, watching the other boy’s penis swell and change color, then spasm violently, spewing hot streams of ejaculate over both their stomachs. That pushed Jesse over the brink. He let go his restraint and drove himself into his lover with wild abandon. The boy cried out in pain and clung to him tightly.

“Fuck, fuck, Han—I love you…fuck,” Jesse groaned.

He gave another deep, forceful thrust and held it, and Hanzo felt the rapid convulsions of Jesse’s ejaculation inside him. Then Jesse tumbled forward onto his friend’s glistening, naked body and lay there breathless and practically insensible. Some time passed before they moved or spoke again, both reluctant to break the spell, neither willing to let go of the other.

Hanzo reached up and stroked Jesse’s back with the tips of his fingers, drawing slow circles and raising goosebumps on his damp skin.

“You are sweating, cowboy,” he said. “Was it hard work, making love to me?”

Jesse lifted his head.

“You know what they say darlin’,” he grinned. “Hard work is its own reward.”

“What is the meaning of that word? Dar-leen. I have not heard it before.”

“Dar-ling, not Darleen. Darleen is a woman’s name. Dar-ling means the same as honey, sugar, sweetie pie, all that mess.”

“Those are all foods that are sweet,” Hanzo said, more perplexed than ever. “Jesse, do you think I am like a sweet food?”

“I do,” Jesse laughed. He enfolded the archer in his arms. “I think I might just eat you whole.”

“You had better not,” his captive replied. “You would make yourself sick and you would be sad.”

“But I’d be full,” Jesse replied, kissing him all over the face till he squirmed and protested. “Speakin’ of which, are you hungry at all? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”

“Cowboy, you do not think we eat horses here, do you?” the archer said reproachfully.

“Well, I didn’t. Is that somethin’ people say?”

“It is a thing people often say of foreign places. That they eat strange animals.”

“Well, sweetheart, y’all eat sea urchins here and that’s about the strangest animal there is.”

“I do not eat sea urchins.”

“Glad to hear it. Then you can order our food,” Jesse said, getting out of bed and handing him the room service menu. “Anything you like.”

His friend sat up and eyed the menu critically, then lifted the telephone and spoke very rapidly in Japanese.

“What’d you get us?” Jesse said, bouncing playfully on the bed.

“Sea urchin and horse.”

“You little rascal, come here.”

Jesse captured his fleeing quarry and assailed him with kisses till he was scolded and told to put on some pants before the waiter arrived. He was in the bathroom when their food came at last, so Hanzo put on Jesse’s shirt, which fit him like a robe, and let the waiter in with the cart. When Jesse exited the bathroom, he found his beloved sitting at the table sipping tea demurely, wearing nothing but a large, plaid shirt. He had pulled his luxurious hair back and secured it in its tie, so as not to allow it to interfere with his food, revealing more of his face than usual. The overall effect of this image charmed Jesse so immensely that he stood gazing at the scene for a nearly full minute before he came back to himself.

“Sweetheart, you have the prettiest face I think I’ve ever seen,” he said dreamily.

“I am not pretty,” the archer said, attempting to look displeased. “Girls are pretty.”

“Yep, you’re right. Girls are pretty. You are beautiful.”

“Come and eat,” the beautiful boy said with a sly smile. “Your food will get cold.”

He lifted the covers on the trays and Jesse laughed delightedly. There on the dainty silver platters sat enormous American-style cheeseburgers and greasy, golden heaps of french fries. The cowboy kissed his archer affectionately on the top of his head and went to work ravenously on his meal.

“What specific abilities?” Jesse asked as they ate.

“I beg your pardon?” the other boy said, not quite understanding.

“When we was talkin’ before, you said that you’d got to be an assassin on account of your skills and some specific abilities. What kind of specific abilities you mean?”

“I can summon the spectral forms of the ancestral dragons of the Shimada family and command them to consume my enemies,” the young master replied offhandedly, as though making such a statement were the same as saying, “I am pretty good at math.”

Jesse laughed uneasily.

“I’m afraid that language barrier is puttin’ some static on the line again,” he said. “I don’t understand that idiom. What does it mean literally?”

Hanzo cocked his head to one side. “Its literal meaning is just as I have spoken it.”

“You mean literally that you can summon the ancestral dragons of the Shimadas and…what?”

“And command them to consume my enemies. Only their spectral forms. Their full manifestation would be far too dangerous. They are powerful and difficult to control.”

“But, sweetheart, dragons don’t really exist in the actual world, in actual reality.”

“They do not exist in our world, no.”

“Right.”

“Until I summon them.”

“I’m real confused, darlin’,” Jesse said. “If this is some kind of joke, I don’t understand it at all. Could you help me out a little?”

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Jesse, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“My philosophy?”

“It is a quote from a play by William Shakespeare. Horatio does not wish to believe that he and the prince have seen the ghost of the prince’s father. The prince replies as such. I used it only as an aphorism. I mean to say, the fact that you have not seen dragons does not prove that they do not exist in actual reality.”

“I see. Can you—can you summon ‘em any time you want?”

“Any time I have need. They are not playthings.” He frowned, “Though they are frequently unruly and prone to mischief.”

“Ok, well now you’re makin’ ‘em sound like pets. Ain’t dragons huge ol’ things?”

“Sometimes.”

“How do huge spectral dragons get into mischief?”

“They can adopt varying sizes to suit the occasion. I have used them as thieves and scouts, and for those purposes, they are small. When they are small, their energy is far more concentrated, and they become…playful. It is most undignified.”

“How small? Like real little like a mouse?”

“Closer to the size of a cat.”

“Can I…can I see ‘em?”

“They are not toys, Jesse.”

“I understand, but Hanzo, honey, babydoll, you just told me you have magic shapeshifting ghost dragons you can summon at will. Can’t you see how I’d be pretty keen to get a look at ‘em?”

“They are not magic. They are supernatural.”

Jesse was beside himself. Either his new lover was a madman, or this outrageous story was true. However, the question of the existence of spectral dragons was pushed suddenly and thoroughly to the back of his mind. At that moment, Commander Reyes opened the door and stepped into the room.


	9. Twinned Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: EXPLICIT SEX
> 
>  
> 
> YES AGAIN.

Commander Reyes surveyed the scene silently. Jesse in his blue jeans and nothing else, the elder son of Sojiro Shimada in Jesse’s shirt and nothing else, Jesse’s bed in flagrant disarray, and a table full of empty dishes. He crossed his arms and stared at Jesse.

“Uh, hey boss,” Jesse said, positively trembling with terror. “Have—have you met Hanzo?”

Hanzo stood and bowed.

“Commander Reyes,” he said. “I am honored to make your acquaintance. My father speaks highly of you.”

The commander returned the bow, then looked at Jesse again.

“I got a message that you were sick and had to leave suddenly,” he said. “I figured it must be serious to make you run out on our meeting without permission, so I came straight here to check on you. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Are—are you, boss?”

“Yes. I’d like you to be at your best when Sojiro kills you. What the fuck are you two thinking? No, wait, forget I asked. I know for certain neither of you are thinking. Not with your brains, anyway.”

“But boss, you ain’t gonna tell him, are you?”

“Of course I’m not going to tell him. But do you think he needs me to tell him? He knew we were here the minute we arrived. He’s been watching us both the entire time. You think he doesn’t know exactly where his boy is?”

“I am certain,” Hanzo said, with a haughty little toss of that magnificent hair, “that my father knows where I am.”

Jesse and the commander turned to look at him.

“What makes you so certain?” Reyes asked.

“I was followed,” the young master replied evenly. “Not secretly, simply discreetly. There are Shimada bodyguards in the street, in the hotel lobby, in the hallway, and on the roof.”

“But Han, if you knew you was bein’ followed, why’d you come?” Jesse said incredulously.

Hanzo cocked his head to one side again, as he did when confused by Jesse’s questions. “I did not intend to keep my whereabouts hidden from my father, if that is what you mean.”

“That’s what I was gettin’ at, yeah.”

“Jesse, I will not conceal the nature of our interaction from my father. I have not done so. He is aware of what has passed between us up till now.”

“He is?”

“He is.”

“And he ain’t…he ain’t mad?” 

“No, he is not angry. He considers it to be a youthful fancy that will soon pass.”

“That a fact?” Jesse scratched his chin. “A youthful fancy, huh?”

The archer turned to the commander.

“Commander Reyes,” he said, bowing again. “I apologize for intruding and for appearing in such an indecorous state of dress. I will depart so that you may confer with your subordinate in private.”

“Don’t leave on my account,” the commander said, dropping into a chair.

“I at least should dress,” the young man answered.

Reyes watched the strange, black-haired boy collect his clothing and retreat to the bathroom, then turned his sharp eye on Jesse, who was trying very hard to appear at ease. The commander shook his head and burst into laughter, startling Jesse almost out of his skin.

“So you went ahead and fucked the Shimada boy, did you?”

Jesse looked sheepishly up at the man. “Well can you blame me, boss? I mean, you saw him, right? Ain’t he beautiful? Just a like a painting come to life.”

“He is,” the commander said, “very beautiful. But Jesse, you can’t just go around putting your dick in every pretty thing you see. That’s how you get it cut off.”

“I bet that’s how you kicked out of a lot of art galleries, too,” Jesse said innocently.

“You impudent little shit,” the man said. He glanced toward the bathroom and lowered his voice. “What do you think of the boy telling Sojiro about the two of you, though? Do you believe that?”

“If he says he did, then I believe him. I just can’t figure why he’d risk it in the first place. That man is terrifying.”

“He’s not all that terrifying,” Reyes said. “Not when you get to know him. But if he knew, I wonder why he didn’t say anything to me about it.”

“Maybe he supposed it was my business and not—”

The commander arched an eyebrow and Jesse bit off the end of his sentence.

“Say, that’s the thing boss,” he said, grateful to be able to change the subject. “How do the two of y’all know each other? And why didn’t you know he was the master of the Shimadas?”

“I knew him under an assumed name. And as far as I knew, he died soon after our mission ended.”

“And that was twenty-five years ago?”

“Yeah. It was back when Jack and I were with the SOG, during one of the first waves of Omnic attacks. The two of us were holed up and under fire in a bombed-out apartment building in Gwangju. We’d got word from command that a mercenary with friendly interests was coming to help us. A deadly assassin who went by the name of Ryuu. We didn’t see how one merc, no matter how deadly, was going to help us fight off an entire Omnic assault squad, but we waited for him like we were told. We didn’t have a choice, really.

We didn’t see him arrive, but we sure knew it when he did. All the enemy fire whipped around all at once and let loose in the opposite direction. They were rattling and booming and hurling the heaviest barrage I’ve ever seen at whatever their new target was. Then there was this tremendous, horrible roar, like a hurricane got angry, and all the clamor and thunder of the enemy fire just stopped. Everything went dead silent. It was eerie and ominous and we were more worried than ever. We figured they were powering up for something really bad. But after a few minutes, this man—one man—comes strolling in the through the rubble that used to be the front of the building. Just strolls on in like he owns the place, and calls out in this thick Japanese accent, ‘Morrison and Reyes? Are you alive? I am Ryuu and I have been sent to help you.’

We came out and introduced ourselves and asked him what happened. He got a strange little smile on his face and told us we should come have a look for ourselves. The three of us walked out of the building and Jack and I stood there gaping like a couple of stunned carp. Every single one of those hundred or so assault units had been reduced to shiny, metal debris. They were lying around in heaps all over the place. Just wiped out. In seconds.”

“What happened?” Jesse asked eagerly. “How did he do it?”

“Listen son, before I tell you this you have to know I’m deadly serious and it’s the truth. I wouldn’t have believed it myself, but I saw it with my own eyes later.”

“Wait, let me guess, boss,” Jesse interrupted. “He summoned spectral dragons and commanded them to destroy his enemies.”

Reyes stared at the boy in frank amazement. “How in the holy fuck did you know that?”

“I told you they were real, Jesse,” Hanzo said from behind them.

He’d apparently finished dressing and had rejoined them unnoticed.

“I see,” the commander said. “So you can do it, too.”

“I can,” the archer replied. “And my brother can, to a lesser extent.”

“Genji’s got magic ghost dragons too?” Jesse asked almost wistfully.

“He can summon one, yes,” Hanzo said. “But it is not able to change size or be more than a few meters from his person without becoming unstable and fading.”

“That’s better than most folks can do,” Jesse replied. “I can’t even summon a canary. How far can yours go?”

“Many miles. I do not know exactly because they have not yet reached such a limit. It is unwise to send them out of my sight for too long, in any case. They are wayward when unsupervised.”

“Hear that, boss? He talks about these fantastic mythical creatures like they’re naughty children. It’s ‘most too many for me.”

“They are young,” Hanzo said. “They will mature and will become wiser and more obedient.”

“What do you mean?” Jesse asked. “How old are they?”

“They were born into their current incarnation when I was born. So they are eighteen years old.”

Jesse looked dismayed. “You mean your ma, she gave birth to you and two dragons?”

“Fuck’s sake, boy,” the commander interjected. “I thought I was wrong about you being an idiot. They’re born in the person they belong to, not separately. They’re as much a part of your friend here as his fingers and toes.”

“That is correct,” Jesse’s friend said. “But they do not take visible form until one learns to summon them. And then, their manifestation depends upon the person to whom they belong. Mine are an identical pair and they are blue. Genji’s is green. My father also has one, a red dragon, massive and terrible and often cloaked in fire. My grandmother’s was white. She was able to control it even fully physically manifested. She was rarely without it.”

“Hanzo, please,” Jesse said petulantly, “please let me see ‘em. Just once. I promise I’ll be good and I won’t try to touch ‘em or nothin’.”

The archer looked about him.

“I would prefer,” he said, “to summon them in a place where there is less risk of damage to your personal property.”

“In case they’re feelin’ frisky?” Jesse offered.

“Indeed,” his friend said.

“Before the two of you go running off to play with dragons, we need to have a talk,” the commander said. “If you’ll kindly recall, Jesse, we are here to do a god damned job. Hanzo, you’re welcome to stay, since it concerns you, too. Your father has agreed to help us deal with our little Imagawa difficulty.”

The boys seated themselves at the table and the commander elaborated.

“He’s agreed to help us, but not visibly. He thinks a public demonstration of hostility toward the Imagawas would be unwise, and I am inclined to agree. What he has specifically offered us, aside from any intelligence they have and lodging in Shimada Castle, is the assistance of his most skilled infiltrator and assassin. That means you, son,” he said, indicating to Hanzo. “I accepted the offer, unless you have any objection.”

“I am more than happy to assist you in any way I am able,” the assassin said cordially.

“Good. Then you’ll be working with us for a little while. The three of us will meet with your father later tonight to strategize. Right now, Jesse and I need to get our gear packed. We’re moving our base of operations to Shimada Castle. Welcome to the team, Hanzo.”

Servants arrived shortly afterward with orders to transport their things, so they walked back to the castle unburdened by their luggage, Jesse and Hanzo side-by-side, and the commander a few paces behind.

Reyes watched his young friend and the black-haired boy as they strolled along, chatting in a private tone, smiling and stealing glances at each other, like young people in love. He felt a strange, bitter pang, almost akin to grief, and turned his eyes away. He had been the only star in the boy’s sky for so long, he hadn’t been prepared to be so suddenly and totally eclipsed. But he had been. His flickering, fading star had been extinguished and replaced by a brilliant, beautiful sun. He told himself that it was ridiculous. He was the boy’s commander and, to an extent, his friend. There was nothing about a juvenile romantic entanglement that had any bearing on his position. But what if the boy really believed he was in love? What if he chose to abandon his post and his commander and remain in Hanamura with this pretty little killer? That old, lowering sense of agitation gripped his gut and hardened into knots. He ignored it and returned his mind to the task at hand.

Jesse and the commander were given a lavish suite of adjoining guest rooms in the main hall of Shimada Castle, much to the disappointment Genji, who had vague ideas of camp-style sleepovers with sleeping bags and Jesse’s cowboy stories. When they’d been shown their rooms and left alone at last, Reyes took Jesse’s arm and motioned to the door with his head.

“You want go outside for a smoke?” he asked.

Jesse glanced at the two ashtrays visible from where they stood in the room, and took his meaning.“Yeah, sure, boss."

They stepped out onto a covered balcony, and Reyes opened his topic as Jesse lit their cigarettes.

“Jesse, listen,” he said, “there’s more you have to know about Ryuu than I wanted to say with his boy around. The circumstances of his supposed death, primarily. After the incident in Gwangju, he and Jack and I worked our way through Korea toward Japan, basically mowing a path of destruction through the Omnic forces all the way to the coast. We’d been together, the three of us, for almost two months when we crossed into Japan. Then Jack and I received a special brief from command. It said, in essence, that the assassin known as Ryuu was now considered a threat to United States national security. Our new orders stated that at the close of our mission, we were to terminate him by any means necessary.”

“Jesus, boss, you sayin’ you killed him? Or thought you did?”

“No. In the end, I couldn’t do it. So Jack pulled the trigger. Sniped him from a hundred yards. Clean and quick and painless.”

“Commander Morrison shot y’all’s friend? From a hundred yards?” Jesse said, not certain which thing to be more shocked by, but leaning toward the distance of the shot.

“Jack is a professional killer, too, Jesse. We all are.”

“Apparently he ain’t, boss, cause the man’s walkin’ around as alive as you and me.”

Reyes shook his head. “No. I was sitting with him. Right beside him. I saw him die, Jesse.”

Jesse swallowed the visceral horror of what his commander had just told him and forced it deep down into that black well in the pit of his stomach. This was no time for dealing with personal torment of that kind.

“So what in the blue blazin’ fuck is goin’ on, then?” he said. “You think…maybe that ain’t him?”

“No. It’s him. We spoke about the old days. He knows things he couldn’t have otherwise. And he was…my friend. I’d know an impostor when I saw one.”

“Well…did you ask him?”

“Use your head, boy,” Reyes said irritably. “How the fuck could I ask him? ‘Hey, Ryuu, my friend shot you in the head, but I can’t help but notice you’re alive so could you please explain?’ I don’t know if he even knows it was us that supposedly did it.”

“But do you think we can trust him?”

“I…I don’t know, Jesse,” Reyes said helplessly. “I don’t know what to think. I am completely at a loss.”

Jesse had never heard his commander sound so defeated. A sick, tight feeling gripped his chest. At a loss. Loss. The word had a gasping, hollow ring to it. Like a tomb.

“I don’t like how any of this feels, boss,” Jesse said. “I feel like a fish on some kinda hook, here. I don’t know what the old master’s got cookin’, but I reckon it ain’t gonna be somethin’ we like.”

The commander stared into the distance and exhaled a plume of white smoke.

“Whatever it is,” Jesse said, attempting to sound confident, “we’ll figure it out, boss. You and me. No one’s ever got the drop on us before, and they won’t now.”

“I hope not.”

“So what do we do?”

“We do what we came to do. We’ve got no choice now but to see how it plays out.”

“Alright then.”

“And Jesse, not a word of this to your little boyfriend. You may think it’s true love, but he’s still his father’s son. He’s only known you for three days.”

The statement stung Jesse to the core. The commander was never one for mincing words, but this was different. There was something more in it. Something intentional. Something with teeth.

“Yes, sir,” Jesse said mechanically. “Of course not, sir.”

Reyes saw immediately how much he’d wounded the boy with the remark. He wanted to apologize to his young friend. He almost did. But then that knot in his gut tightened up and tied his tongue. _He’s going to leave, one way or another. Let him go. Make him go. Push him away. Shove him out before he yanks himself free and takes a big, bleeding chunk of you with him._

“Good,” Reyes said curtly. “I’m going to get some rest while I can. We’re expected at dinner at nine.”

“Yes, sir.”

The commander turned on his heel and strode inside, shutting the door behind him.

Jesse mused dejectedly over his commander’s hard words until the moment he stepped into Hanzo and Genji’s shared hall. The strains of Hanzo’s koto sailed out to meet his ears, followed by Genji’s cheerful salutation, bidding him to come inside and sit with them. The heavy ache in his chest dissolved in their warm, bright conviviality. This must be what it was like to come home to a family.

“Hey there, Genj,” he said. “Hey there, archer.”

Hanzo nodded his greeting and continued to play. Jesse flopped down on a cushion beside Genji and playfully roughed up the boy’s shock of electric-green hair.

“I guess I’m fixin’ to be a lot harder to get rid of, now that your pa gave me a room here in y’all’s house,” he said. “I Just hope I don’t get above my raisin’ and start expectin’ to be waited on hand and foot all the time.”

“I do not know why you have to stay in the main hall,” Genji said. “We have plenty of room and it would be much more fun if you were here with us.”

“Ain’t no reason I can’t sleep over anyhow,” Jesse said, winking devilishly at the young archer.

Hanzo smiled and Genji rolled his eyes.

“Oh no,” he said, “you two cannot start being disgusting and acting that way. I will be sick. Jesse, I said that my brother was trying to steal you, and I was right! He has done it!”

“Now, now, Genj, I told you there’s—holy sweet baby Jesus! What the fuck!”

Jesse had looked up just in time to see a thing he could only describe as a glowing blue iguana appear, snake itself around the corner of the hallway leading to Hanzo’s room, and dart toward him with startling rapidity. He’d only just got the sentence out when the thing was followed by another identical creature. Both things slithered up his legs and had taken hold of his shirt with their claws before he could comprehend what was happening. He sat frozen in terror as the creatures climbed onto his shoulders and began snuffing his face and flicking their little forked tongues at him.

“Han—Hanzo,” he said feebly, “help?”

The two brothers assisted their friend by laughing themselves nearly to tears. One of the creatures got atop Jesse’s head and began to knead his hair with its claws as if it were making a nest. The other coiled itself around his neck and swatted his chin with the tip of its tail.

“Jesse, they like you!” Genji said merrily. “It is a good omen!”

“But…but could they maybe…like me from a safer distance?”

“They will not harm you,” the older brother said through his laughter. “This is their manner of showing affection. Try talking to them.”

“Hey…hey there lil’ fella,” Jesse said cautiously. “Couldja maybe not squeeze my neck like that?” He reached up to touch the creature encamped around his throat. The thing snapped its miniature jaws and nipped the tip of his finger. “Ow! Ok, you’re the boss. No need to get snippy.”

Hanzo, apparently deciding the joke had gone on long enough, spoke some words to the creatures in Japanese. They unwound themselves reluctantly from the startled cowboy’s person and slunk toward their master, jostling and snapping at each other, much in the manner of dogs at play. They began to creep onto their master’s koto, but he raised a disapproving eyebrow. They changed course and took up a position on a nearby cushion, where they sat blinking like sleepy cats, and seeming generally pleased with themselves. The effect of their pet-like behavior was so disarming that it put Jesse almost instantly at ease. They didn’t really resemble iguanas at all, but for their obviously lizard-like bodies. They were leaner, though, and more fluid, and their little snouts were elongated like those of crocodiles or, more appositely, dragons. And they were just that. Very small dragons.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jesse said. “Look at them things! I guess you was right to talk about ‘em like pets. They’re adorable!”

“They are not adorable,” Hanzo said, frowning indignantly.

Simultaneously, the two creatures craned their necks toward Jesse, and one hissed audibly.

“They can’t…understand me, can they?” Jesse asked.

“Not your words, no,” the archer said. “They are somewhat empathic. They sense intent and emotions.”

“They don’t like to be called cute then?” Jesse laughed. “So they’re like you. Real little and sweet and thinkin’ they’re big bad tough guys.”

The creatures growled and one clambered menacingly to its tiny feet, redoubling Jesse’s mirth.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Y’all are very scary and dangerous. Where’s yours, Genj? He out too?”

“No,” Genji said. “Mine and Hanzo’s do not exactly…they are not friendly with one another.”

“That’s a pity. You’d think they’d get along seein’ as they’re all kinda brothers. Say, Hanzo, how come you’ve got two? If you don’t mind me askin’.”

“I do not know why,” Hanzo said. “When my mother was carrying me, she was told by the midwives that she would give birth to twins, but an old wise woman of the clan disagreed. She insisted that only one child would be born. A son. But this child’s spirit would be twinned. Divided into two parts, ever at variance with one another. I was born, a single child, as she had predicted, and when I first summoned my spirit dragon, two appeared, rather than one. This had never occurred in our family’s history. The old wise woman said that these twin dragons were linked to the twin halves of my divided spirit, and that they would grow to represent balance and harmony, or division and conflict, dependent upon the path I chose for my life.”

“That’s pretty heavy,” Jesse said gravely. “You was prophesied over, like in the bible and stuff?”

“I suppose,” Hanzo said.

“Well, that’s somethin’. All the doctors could tell my ma about me was whenabouts I’d get born and they was wrong anyway.”

The creatures yawned and stretched on their cushion, with languorous, un-reptilian fluidity that further solidified Jesse’s impression of these things as being like lazy housecats. But he did not forget that a housecat is also a hunter.

Dinner that evening was a long and formal ordeal during which no one was comfortable and nothing interesting happened, so let us move on as they say, to the good bits. The two older men and the two teenaged boys met together in a much smaller, much more comfortable sitting room in the master’s private quarters. They sat on cushions around a low table, upon which tea was served, and then they got down to the business at hand.

Imagawa Castle was a cliff-side fortress, about ten miles to the south on the coast. It was unassailable from the sea, since it sat high upon the sheer rock wall overlooking the strand. Their best hope was to approach it by stealth, taking a path through a heavily wooded valley that curved toward it from the northeast, avoiding the main road that ran directly north and south. During his recon of the castle, the commander had observed and noted the movements and positions of the guard details, which appeared to operate by regular rotation, every four hours. After much poring over three-dimensional plans of the castle, discussion of its security and how heavily manned it was, and disagreement regarding the best point of entry, they assembled their strategy.

The point of entry for Jesse and Reyes would be a small steward’s gate in the northeast wall of the castle, nearest the river that cut through the valley. Hanzo would enter separately, remaining high on the walls, to spot and snipe if necessary, and to send his dragons in to scout and spy. Jesse would take point and be the first inside the castle after the reptilian scouts. The commander would follow, breach the intelligence center, extract the contents of the mainframe (with some sort of device he’d brought for the purpose and had utterly failed to make Jesse comprehend), and the three would make their escape. In addition to their usual weapons, all three would be armed with EMP charges, in case they tripped any computerized alarm systems or in case, as the commander put it, “shit went south” and they had to destroy the Imagawa mainframe, rather than extract its data.

Since the following week would begin the Golden Week holidays, they decided to wait three days and make their move on April 29th, the date of Showa no Hi. This was the first of the holidays, when the castle guard would likely be lightest, and the fewest civilian employees would be present. The master and the commander agreed that they would continue to gather information and update the plan if necessary, but for now, this was the most viable strategy. All the details were gone over once more, and then the boys were dismissed, leaving the old men to talk about whatever old warriors talk about when they are together. Probably comparing scars, as Jesse said.

Jesse and Hanzo headed off to palliate Genji, who had been stewing over his exclusion from the secret business going on between all the other men in the house. They found him intoxicated and sulky, but he was quickly won over by Jesse’s natural good nature, and of course, the promise of some cowboy songs. The three boys passed a pleasant couple of hours in this way, and Jesse was winding down a long, meandering blues progression when Genji finally drifted off.

Without a word, Jesse lifted Hanzo bodily off his feet and carried him to his bedroom. They stripped each other in a feverish disorder of fabric and buttons and belts, as if their clothing had been suffocating them. Jesse’s body ached. Every moment he was not physically inside the other boy was straining agony to him. At last, penetration. Relief. He sighed a long, shuddering sigh. His eyelids flickered shut. His lover groaned. A low, purring, vibration that Jesse felt in his chest. He covered the boy’s open mouth with his own and pushed, pressed, thrust himself into the hot, tense resistance. He came so fast and so hard that his head spun. He reeled like a drunken man. His lover tried to hold on to him. Jesse pinned his hands to the bed and licked him, sucked him, swallowed his cock. The boy gasped and cried out. He dug his fingernails into the mattress. His body went rigid and shook and his cock throbbed in Jesse’s mouth, filling it with his warm, salty ejaculation. Jesse climbed over him and buried his face in his neck. Buried his hands in that black, velvety hair, and fell fast asleep.


	10. Wine and Roses

Jesse awoke to the grey light of early morning in the young archer’s bedroom. He didn’t come around gradually, like one slowly surfacing from a dive in deep water, as was his usual habit. He was instantly fully alert. He listened to the boy breathe, felt his chest rise and fall, the silky warmth of his naked skin against his own, and the gentle weight of his head on his chest. He lay still, so as not to wake the young man beside him, and mused abstractedly on the situation. He’d never slept in the same bed with someone like this before. It was strangely intimate. Somehow more intimate than the actual sex act. He figured it was on account of having to trust someone so much more in order to fall asleep with them than you have to when you’re fucking, cause then you’re wide awake. When you’re sleeping you’re vulnerable.

The black haired boy made a soft sound and shifted, pushing his nose into the hollow behind Jesse’s ear.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Jesse said softly. “You awake?”

“No,” his darling replied in a low murmur. “I am not ready to be awake yet.”

“That’s just fine with me,” Jesse said, drawing him in closer. “You sleep all day if you want to.”

“Jesse.”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I know it.”

“You are supposed to say that you love me, too, cowboy,” the archer whispered into his ear.

“I thought you were asleep,” Jesse said. “You sure are mouthy when you’re unconscious.”

The other boy pinched Jesse’s earlobe between his top teeth and bottom lip and tugged it. “Tell me, cowboy.”

“That a threat? You gonna bite my ear, till I do, huh?”

The boy bit his earlobe harder, this time with his top and bottom teeth.

“Ok, ok,” Jesse laughed. “I love you too, darlin’. No need to get violent.”

The archer propped himself up on his elbows to look into Jesse’s face.

“There is more where that came from, cowboy,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Try me, you little hooligan.”

Jesse pulled the hooligan in question up onto his body so that he sat astride his hips. The boy gasped and slapped Jesse’s hand.

“Jesse! What do you think you are doing?”

“I’m gonna see if I can’t fuck the sass out of you.”

“What is sass?”

“You know, lip, sauce, backtalk. Sass.”

“You are not my boss, cowboy. How can I sass to you?”

“Oh I ain’t, ain’t I?” Jesse said. “We’ll just see about that.”

He rolled the boy onto his back and pinned his arms above his head. Jesse was in the act of asserting his claim to authority, when a knock at the door gave the entwined pair a start.

“Brother, Jesse, are you awake?” Genji called through the door. “Breakfast will arrive soon.”

“Just a minute, Genj,” Jesse called back, a little more hoarsely than he would have liked. “We’re, uh, gettin’ dressed.”

There was a pause.

“Ugh, you two are disgusting,” Genji’s voice replied, moving away from the door. “Hurry up!”

They did not exactly hurry and, in fact, rather lingered. But boys eighteen and nineteen years old cannot really be faulted for behaving as their biological priorities prompt them. After what Genji imagined was close to eleven hours, they had bathed (separately, in spite of Jesse’s wheedling) and dressed, and emerged to find breakfast and Genji waiting impatiently. That is to say, Genji was impatient. The breakfast did not appear to care one way or another. As they ate, the younger brother peppered them with questions regarding the clandestine adventure they were about to undertake. Jesse didn’t see the harm in giving him the general idea.

“You know how I told your pa the Imagawas made a hostile move on me and my boss?” Jesse said to the eager boy. “They did it by messin’ with some classified documents and tryin’ to make it look like we’d fucked up a mission. That means they’ve got a spy in our agency. We gotta get evidence, so’s we can root out the spy and prove we was set up.”

“How did you find out that they did it?”

“Well, it’s complicated, but the boss found out a certain company supplyin’ some things to the agency we work for was all tied up in Yakuza business, so he reported it and HQ cut off the contract. It cost the Imagawas millions in revenue, seein’ as we make pretty sizeable orders on the regular. Then our comms surveillance decrypted a message sent from somewhere inside our organization to a sat-phone here in Izu. It got sent the day we come back from our mission, and it had the tailored document in it. So we put the pieces together and headed here.”

“But Jesse,” Genji said, “it seems to me that your case depends upon highly circumstantial evidence.”

The green-haired boy hopped up and paced slowly to and fro, hands clasped behind his back as he had doubtless seen some American film detective do.

“Well Genj,” Jesse said, stifling a laugh, “circumstantial is the only evidence we’ve got to go on. I mean, we run ourselves ragged and come up dry till we got that intercepted message.”

“Indeed,” Genji said. He tapped his lower lip contemplatively with his forefinger, then stuck it in the air. “Aha!”

“Aha?” Jesse said helplessly.

“Perhaps it is not what it seems. Perhaps some enemy of the Imagawa clan has planted this evidence to incriminate them, with the intention of using you and your commander to attack them by proxy.”

“That’d be a fine twist in a spy story, Genj, but it takes a lot more steps to get there than to what we already have, which looks to be a pretty clear-cut case. I mean, you need motive and opportunity, right? So why us? Where’s the motive? There’d be plenty of easier ways to take down a rival clan than goin’ to all the fuss of plantin’ an agent and doctorin’ files to make it look like they did it, all on the chance that we’d happen to figure it out and come roarin’ in here. With the Imagawas, it’s just plain old revenge.”

“Perhaps,” Genji said again.

“Besides,” Jesse said, “who’d even be in a position to do somethin’ like that? We’re a pitch-black branch of the agency, and not even folks who work there know what we’re doin’. Who else coulda even known they was supplyin’ for us? Unless…” he laughed uneasily. “Unless it was y’all.”

“Jesse,” Genji said reproachfully, “you do not really think that is possible, do you?”

“No, of course not. That’s why I’m sayin’ our case looks pretty cut and dried.”

“The Imagawas have many enemies, aside from us,” Hanzo said. “They are a trade syndicate in competition with numerous others, just as we are.”

“There is the rub!” Genji exclaimed, with a theatrical flourish. “Perhaps a competitor seeking to increase their profits. What kind of supplies was your agency purchasing from the Imagawas?”

“Weapons, ammunition, armor, that kinda thing.”

“Jesse,” the archer said, laying his hand on the cowboy’s arm. “I do not think we should discuss this matter further without the permission of my father and your commander.”

Jesse gazed adoringly down into the black eyes and was rewarded with a soft smile.

“Sorry, Genj,” he said. “I think Hanzo’s right. I better zip it ‘fore I get myself in hot water with the boss. He’s been kinda touchy lately anyhow.”

“Touchy?” Genji said, appearing perplexed by the idiom.

“Yeah like, on edge. Grumpy.”

“Ah, yes. He appears to be a man who is inclined to being rather grumpy.”

Genji’s grammatically precise phrasing paired with the word ‘grumpy’ made Jesse laugh, which lightened the mood considerably, and breakfast ended on a cheerful note. Jesse, however, could not shake his growing feeling of disquiet. He’d dismissed Genji’s assertion that it could be possible that they were being used by an enemy of the Imagawa clan, but that was, in fact, exactly his suspicion. And he thought he could guess which enemy, too. Hanzo went directly to his exercises, wanting to keep himself sharp for their approaching operation, and Jesse went in search of the commander. The commander was not in his room, so Jesse entered the main hall and found the master’s secretary. The man told him the master and his commander could be found in the master’s parlor, which was the room in which they’d met the evening before. He found the two older men sitting at the table, apparently reviewing the three-dimensional schematics of Imagawa Castle. He approached the table and waited deferentially to be acknowledged.

“…because if they have half a brain between them, it’ll be heavily encrypted,” his commander was saying, “and I don’t have the resources at my disposal here to have it decrypted. What is it, Jesse?”

“I beg your pardon sirs,” Jesse said. “I just came to check in and get my orders for the day, boss.”

“Nothing from me,” the commander said shortly. “You can run along and play with your friends. Just stay out of trouble. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Jesse paused and swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” was all he could manage in a steady voice.

His face burned with humiliation at the abrupt, patronizing dismissal, and he turned and retreated rapidly from the room.

The old master eyed his friend thoughtfully. If Reyes was aware of his gaze, he didn’t make any sign. He continued the topic from the point at which the boy had interrupted.

“Ideally,” he said, “we’ll be able to get it decrypted within a few days, then we’ll see what we’ve actually got. I just hope all of this doesn’t turn out to be for nothing.”

“Our cryptologists are certainly capable of handling such a task,” the old master replied. “Why not save yourself the time and effort of another transcontinental voyage, and take advantage of their services?”

The commander shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. We have common interests at the moment, yes, but the Shimada clan is another Yakuza empire. I can’t allow your people to access what will very likely be extremely sensitive information relating to my agency and its operations. Not if I want to keep my job. I am responsible to my own commander, and he is responsible to the agency’s board of directors.”

“I am assisting you in this difficulty at great risk to my family’s livelihood, Gabriel. I do not think it is unreasonable that I ask for some reciprocation. Some exchange of information.”

“Ryuu, I am aware that I'm being used as a tool here just as much as I'm using you to help achieve my ends. It’s in your interest to see the Imagawa clan weakened, if not dissolved entirely, just as much as mine. If I can show proof to my superiors that we have been infiltrated and interfered with by them, my organization will see to it that they are no longer a player on your board. That should be more than enough reciprocation to satisfy you.”

“More than enough,” the master agreed. “But what guarantee do I have that your organization will not then turn their attention to my family and our trade? Do you see why it would be foolish for me to give up what may become a very necessary bargaining chip?”

“I do. But I can’t let you have it. I can’t knowingly hand you what could be the means to destroy us. It’s not in my power to make that kind of deal.”

“Whose authority is necessary to make such a bargain if not yours? Your superiors are not here. They are not even aware of the threat to their organization that already exists in the hands of people who have no reason to desire a peaceful accord with you.”

“Why do you have reason, Ryuu? Why would you want to make us an ally?”

The master stood and turned to gaze out of the window. The sun shone bright and clear in the courtyard, and a breeze danced among the cherry blossoms, causing their delicate petals to buck and shiver beautifully against the brilliant blue sky.

“Because I fear for the very existence of everything I hold dear,” he said. “I have seen the mindless brutality of the machines. I have seen the devastation and ruin, the annihilation of all things that stand in their way. We saw much of it together. It is a deep trouble to my heart, to think that one day such a fate may befall my home. My people. Thousands of years of our family’s history wiped out, unless someone can defend us against the onslaught of the machines. I think that you and your organization are the best hope that we have for such a defense.”

The two men remained silent for a time, the stoic old master gazing out on his ancestral home, and the commander resting his elbows on his knees with his eyes closed, as if he were deep in thought.

“Why is it, Gabriel,” the master said at length, “that you have not asked me how it is that I am alive?”

The commander opened his eyes. “Why haven’t you told me, Ryuu?”

“I cannot tell you without also revealing secrets that do not belong to me, and that I have no right to expose. But if this matter troubles you, I would suggest that you seek the counsel of our friend, Jack Morrison. He is wise and may have words that will ease your mind.”

Reyes sat unmoved, nothing in his body or face betraying any suggestion of his reaction to this statement.

“If you will forgive me, I now have business to which I must attend,” the master said. “Please consider my request, Gabriel. We will talk more this evening.”

“Of course, Ryuu,” Reyes said. “I know there are many demands your time. I’ll see you tonight.”

The master bowed, and Reyes rose and returned the bow. Before he opened the door to go, the master turned back to his friend.

“Gabriel,” he said. “You are very hard with that boy. It may be well to remember that he is only a child.”

After the master had departed, Reyes stood hesitating for a moment between the path to his room and the path to the brothers’ quarters. His brow furrowed, and he stalked off toward his room.

 

“Commander Reyes,” Morrison’s oaky voice said through the sat-phone speaker, “How’s the leave going? You getting some proper R and R?”

“Yes, sir,” Reyes told the phone. “It’s been nothing but wine and roses.”

'Roses' was a duress word the two had used for many decades. It asked if the communication was being monitored.

“Glad to hear it, Gabe. You and McCree have been busy as bees lately, and you both deserve some time off. What can I do for you?”

'Bees' was the word to indicate that the communication was indeed being monitored.

“Well, I ran into an old friend. Someone we knew in our SOG days. He had some photographs of us back then, and I thought you might like me send them to you.”

'Photographs' asked the listener to communicate from a secure line.

“Absolutely,” Morrison said. “Listen, Gabe, I’ve got to get back to work, but I’m off duty in a couple hours. I’ll get a hold of you later and we can dust off those old memories.”

'Memories' confirmed that he would make contact from a secure line.

“Understood, sir.”

“Take care.”

Reyes tapped his screen to end the call. He sat on the edge of his bed staring at the phone in his hand for a minute or two, then got up and exited the room.

 

Jesse landed flat on his back, making a sound like “oof” as the impact knocked the wind out of him. He lay on the ground stunned and blinking.

“Come on, cowboy,” Hanzo said. “Again!”

Jesse propped himself up on his elbows. His hat had fallen off and bits of grass from the training yard lawn clung to his hair.

“I think maybe I had enough for today, darlin’.”

Hanzo had invited Jesse to join him in some hand-to-hand exercises. Jesse, thinking of his sweetheart as something of a fragile flower, had accepted, intending to go easy on the boy. Jesse was six feet tall, athletically built, and a competent, experienced street-brawler. He was instantly and utterly outmatched by his diminutive black-haired opponent. Jesse was strong, Hanzo was stronger by far. Jesse was quick, Hanzo moved like nothing he’d ever seen. Faster than sight, he had parried Jesse’s first advance, slicing in behind his attack and catching his arms in a restraining hold. Jesse had struggled momentarily, then feeling the other boy’s obvious strength, had relented. They’d tried again. Jesse attempted to grapple him. Hanzo’s body whipped around him with deadly grace, like a flexible steel blade. Lighting quick, he’d caught Jesse’s arm, planted a foot behind his calf, and thrown him to the ground. Jesse had hopped up and they had circled each other for another bout. Jesse had waited, made his opponent come to him, chambered a defensive strike, and wound up on his back with no air in his lungs. Hanzo’s foot had struck his chest dead-center before he’d seen it coming.

Hanzo crossed quickly to his side to help him to his feet. Jesse clutched his left hip with one hand and staggered up.

“I did not hurt you, did I?” the archer asked.

“Naw, I just gotta catch my breath a minute.”

Jesse dropped onto a stone bench and sat breathing hard and eyeing his black-eyed opponent keenly. The other boy collected his hat and handed it to him, then sat beside him on the bench.

“Here I thought I was gonna go easy on you,” Jesse said. “You took the tar clean out of me like it weren’t nothin’.”

“I am not delicate, Jesse.”

“Delicate? Fuck no, you ain’t delicate. I was just a little surprised is all. You’re so soft and sweet when we’re…together, I didn’t stop to think how you might be stronger and faster’n me.” He laughed. “Why do you let me toss you around like that? You could probably kill me without breakin’ a sweat.”

The archer looked up into the cowboy’s big brown eyes. “I submit to you because I wish to. Does it displease you to know that I—”

“That you could kick my ass from here to Jacksonville without stoppin’ to cuss along the way?”

Hanzo heard the tone of admiration in the question. He smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“Not in a million years,” Jesse said. “On the contrary. I like knowin’ that you’re so much better’n me but you like me enough to want to…be that way with me. Makes it mean more, you know?”

“I am not better than you. I have simply been trained as a warrior since childhood.” He smiled slyly. “And, yes, I am stronger and faster than you.”

Jesse laughed and caught the boy in his arms.

“Ain’t that a fact,” he said, kissing him on the top of his head.

They heard a heavy footfall on the path from the garden and turned to see Commander Reyes emerging around the corner. The boys stood and Hanzo bowed as he met them. He returned the bow.

“I see you boys are getting some exercise. Good.” His eye twinkled. “I mean, some outdoor exercise.”

“If you mean Hanzo’s been usin’ me as a practice bag, then yeah, boss. I never saw anything like it. He put me on my ass before I knew what was what.”

“Is that so?” the commander replied, looking the archer up and down. “I’m not surprised. I had you figured for a fighter.”

Hanzo bowed again.

“You should see him move, boss,” Jesse said. “Fighter don’t begin to describe it.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing your technique, Hanzo. If you boys want to have another bout.”

“I think, sir, that my friend has reached his limit for today,” the archer replied. “But I would be more than happy to spar with you, if you would like.”

The commander hesitated for a moment, looking back and forth between the two boys.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “But remember, I’m an old man. So don’t be too rough on me.”

He unzipped his grey hooded jacket and deposited it on the stone bench. His close fitting black t-shirt looked as if it had been tailored to fit his body, which in fact, it had. It stretched neatly across his broad, muscular shoulders and chest, his taut, flat stomach, and his perfectly trim middle, with hardly a wrinkle where it met the waistband of his black jeans. Jesse gazed with some envy on the older man’s solid, utilitarian body. He couldn’t help admiring his scars. To Jesse, he looked like some ancient hero from a storybook come to life. A being carved from stone that had somehow been awakened to walk and breathe among mortals. He wondered how long his commander would live. There was something comforting in the thought that the old man would live forever, dauntless and indomitable, a hyperbole of masculine power, long after Jesse had withered and returned to the dust.

Hanzo and the commander took their positions in the practice yard and bowed courteously. Hanzo raised his arms to adopt his fighting stance. The commander remained as he stood, feet a little apart, arms slack at his sides. But Jesse observed a subtle shift of some kind, not in his posture, but almost in his intent, for lack of a better word. As if his energy had been refocused internally and concentrated in specific areas. Hanzo darted forward and spun to the side. His strike met the empty space where the commander had been. A swift tap between the shoulder blades sent the archer stumbling forward. He whipped around and chambered. The commander stood still, arms loose, feet slightly apart. The archer advanced again, feinted, kicked, and hit the ground. He sprung up and circled. The commander stared straight ahead, not moving a muscle. Not even turning his eyes to follow his opponent’s position. The archer attacked from behind. Simultaneously, as though it had been carefully choreographed, the commander’s heavy hand occupied the same space as the archer’s fist. His iron grip stopped the blow in its trajectory, as surely as if it had hit a concrete wall. He used the momentum to throw the boy off balance, sweep his leg, and drop him onto what certainly would have been his head, had the commander not caught him instantly.

But he did catch him, as easily as if he were a small child, and set him down on his feet. Hanzo was panting heavily, cheeks flushed with the exercise, bright black eyes kindled with something wild and fierce. The commander stood perfectly at ease, as though he’d been resting comfortably, not a hint of exertion showing. The opponents studied each other intently. Too intently for Jesse’s immediate comfort.

“Ok, boss,” he called out. “No sense in pulverizin’ him right before we take him on an op.”

The commander smiled and stuck out his hand. The archer shook it warmly.

“You are a worthy opponent, Commander Reyes. I am honored to have fought with you.”

“You’re no slouch yourself, son,” the commander replied. “And just Gabe is fine.”

 _Just Gabe is fine_? Jesse thought. _Gabe? What the high-flyin’ fuck_. The boss had never even hinted that it’d be ok for Jesse to use his first name.

“Thank you, Gabe,” Hanzo said, bowing politely. “Perhaps we could train together again some time.”

“Sure, son. I’ll be happy to keep mowing the grass with you, if that’s what you want.”

Jesse noted that Hanzo laughed at the joke right away, without his usual pause to process the translation. He felt a stab of something ugly and acrid. Jealousy?

The commander approached the bench where Jesse stood. He slung his jacket over his shoulder and turned to go, but before he did, he clapped his hand on Jesse’s back and gave him a little shake. Jesse’s irritation melted away under the affectionate gesture like snow before a blazing fire.

“Come find me before dinner,” the commander said. “I’m expecting a call from Jack and we’ll probably want to put our heads together afterward.”

“Yes sir, boss,” Jesse said brightly.

The commander disappeared around the corner and his heavy footsteps faded off into the garden.

Jesse turned around just in time to be struck by the weight of Hanzo’s entire body. The boy leapt on him like a jungle cat, knocking him to the ground, kissing him ferociously and tearing at his clothing.

“Jesse,” he breathed, “Jesse take me right now. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

“You’re the boss, darlin’, but shouldn’t we better get inside somewhere?”

The archer jumped up and dragged the cowboy to his feet. Taking him by his shirt collar, he pulled him into the large shed where training equipment and such things were stored and locked the door behind them.


	11. Whither thou goest, I will go.

Commander Reyes was stepping out of the shower when he heard his sat-phone chirp. He wrapped a towel around his waist and and picked it up. There were seven messages from an unidentified number, Jack of course, all on the order of “Pick up your fucking phone.” It rang as he was holding it. He let it ring three times (to annoy his friend) and then touched the answer button.

“Reyes,” he said innocently.

“Gabe, god damn it,” Jack’s voice came back. “I’ve been trying to call you for a half an hour. What the fuck is going on?”

“I was in the shower, cariño, keep your pants on.”

“Fucking prick. I mean why did you need me to call from a secure line?”

“Are you on a secure line?”

“Yeah. I’m using a burst transmitter and tapping directly into the satellite. What’s up?”

“Ryuu.”

There was a pause.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, Jack, fuck. Fuck is absolutely right. What the fuck, to be more specific.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Fucking fuck la madre que te parió! Jack how could you do this?” Reyes almost shouted. “How could you let me think he was dead all these years. You know how bad it fucked me up. I was sitting right god damned next to him, Jack! I saw him die!”

“I did what I had to do to protect him, Gabriel. And to protect you.”

“What the fuck do you mean protect me?”

“I disobeyed a direct order from command, Gabe. Not only that, I willfully deceived the United States government and assisted a high-value target in falsifying his death and escaping. I couldn’t let you know about it. What good would that have done except to get you court-martialed right alongside me if it came out?”

“Five years, Jack. It’s been five years since we left the SOG. And you never told me.”

“Still, Gabriel, what good would that have done? How would it have helped you to know?”

“It would have helped when I came to god damned Hanamura, Jack, to know the master of the fucking Shimada clan was an old war buddy who I thought was god damned dead!”

“The master of the Shimada clan. Wait, what?”

“Jack,” Reyes said, lowering his voice to a hoarse murmur. “Please tell me you knew who he was.”

“I knew he was a Shimada. I didn’t have any idea he was _the_ Shimada. Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

“How did you get mixed up with the Shimadas in the first place?”

“The kid,” Reyes said, massaging his brow. “Jesse. He made friends with the younger son. I told him to befriend the local youth and the first fucking boy he ran into was Genji fucking Shimada. Of course, they all fell head over heels in love with him and invited him to the castle and gave him music lessons and Jesus fuck all else. We’re at Shimada castle now. We’re staying here in a big fancy guest suite.”

“Ryuu invited you to stay there?”

“Yeah. He's apparently willing to help us with the Imagawas. He's even lending us an assassin. His older boy, who by the way, Jesse is fucking and Ryuu doesn’t seem to give a shit.”

“Jesse is gay?”

“Jesus Christ, Jack. Focus.”

“This is a lot of shit to process all at once, Gabe. Give me a fucking break, ok?”

Silence.

“So, Ryuu is helping you?”

“Apparently.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I can’t figure out why. I mean, he says it’s because he wants to have what he calls a ‘peaceful accord’ with Overwatch. Says he thinks we’re the best hope for defense against the machines.”

“And you don’t trust him?”

“I…I don’t know. The kid doesn’t trust him.”

“Jesse? What does Jesse have to do with whether you trust him? Jesse doesn’t know him.”

“He’s got good instincts, Jack. Don’t underestimate him. He…he figured it all out, about you and me, without me telling him.”

“Did he?” Morrison chuckled. “I guess that explains why he was so casual about walking in on us having breakfast.”

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“How did you fake Ryuu’s death. I saw him die. I carried his fucking body to the chopper.”

“We didn’t fake it.”

“What the fuck do you mean you didn’t fake it and who is ‘we’?”

“Myself and…Gabe, don’t flip out.”

“I am the very model of restraint,” Reyes said through his teeth.

“Myself and Angela.”

Silence.

“Gabe? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Reyes said flatly, his voice straining with the effort to remain calm. “How did you and the lovely doctor accomplish this miraculous feat?”

“I really shot him. He really died. Angela revived him.”

“After a sixteen hour trip back to HQ and a night in the morgue? Is that what you’re fucking telling me?”

“No, she replaced the body immediately. Had one waiting. We moved Ryuu to her lab and she revived him.”

“How.”

“I don’t understand what Angela does, Gabe. She’ll have to explain it to you.”

“But you believed she could do it. Believed it enough to shoot our friend in the head.”

“He believed it. That was enough. It was his choice.”

“So he’s not carrying around a twenty-five-year-old grudge against us, then.”

“No. He was entirely in on the plan.”

“And Angela knew all this time, too. That conniving little—”

“Gabe, come on.”

“So you just approached him and said, ‘Ryuu, my bosses want me to kill you and I’m going to, but there’s good news too’?”

“Not in those exact words, but yes.”

Reyes paused for a long time. Then he gave a soft chuckle.

“What?”

“I kind of wish I’d known you were capable of breaking a rule like that. I’ve got a whole new respect for you now. Jack the subversive rebel.”

“Well, you know. Can’t always be a Boyscout.”

“Fuck. Jack, I wish…I wish you were here. I miss you so much.”

“Gabe…don’t.”

“Why?”

“You know why. We’re not…like that anymore.”

“What about the other night. What was that?”

“That was a—”

“Jack, if the next word out of your mouth is ‘mistake’, I swear I’ll hang up and we will not speak again.”

“It was a very nice thing, Gabe. But it was just that.”

“Just a fuck?”

“...If you want to be crass about it.”

“I think ‘fuck’ sounds less crass than ‘nice thing’ in this context.”

Morrison didn’t respond, but Reyes could hear him breathing.

“So you think I can trust Ryuu?”

“I can’t make that call for you, Gabriel.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll have to think about it.”

“Let me know what you decide to do.”

“Ok.”

“Gabe.”

“What?”

“How did Jesse end up fucking Ryuu’s son?”

“How do teenagers usually wind up fucking, Jack? I imagine they were in the same room for longer than five minutes and that was probably enough. It might’ve been enough for me.”

“For you?”

“You should see this kid, Jack. He’s prettier than you.”

“How old is he?”

“Eighteen.”

“Send me a picture of him.”

“Dirty old man. Here.”

“Christ. He is prettier than me. Him and Jesse, huh?”

“Yep. Like a couple of dogs in heat. Jesse, uh, he thinks they’re in love.”

“He thinks?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“There’s something off about the kid. Hanzo is his name. He likes being knocked around. We sparred some today and I probably could’ve had him right there if I’d wanted him.”

“Sparred? You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

“No. I knocked him down a few times, but I was really just playing with him. But the way he responded to it…it was bizarre. Like I flipped a switch in his head or something.”

“Well, Gabe, you’re a strong, good-looking adult man. I’m not surprised to hear that a teenager got a hard-on from being physical with you like that.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think it was that. I think it was me hitting him that did it.”

“And you’re worried about what Jesse’s getting himself into?”

“No, I think he is going to get his heart broken regardless of what he’s getting himself into. I just don’t think Hanzo is as in love with Jesse as Jesse is with him. There’s just something off about him.”

“Poor Jesse. I hope he doesn’t take it too hard.”

“Which part?”

“The part where he has to leave his boyfriend in Japan and come home.”

“Yeah. I wish I could do something, but what can you do? Kids just have to fuck up and get hurt. It’s like watching a train-wreck in slow motion.”

Reyes shuddered internally at his unintentionally personal metaphor. Morrison didn’t appear to have noticed.

“You sound like a dad,” he said.

“Fuck off.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Immediately? I’m going to take a nap and try not to think about fucking Jesse’s boyfriend.”

Morrison laughed, a low throaty rumble made sharp and raspy by the tiny telephone speakers.

“Ok, Jack, I should let you go. I’ll give your best to Sojiro Shimada.”

“You do that. Talk to you later, Gabe.”

“Bye.”

Reyes tapped the button to end the call and stretched out on his bed. He didn’t realize he’d dozed off till he awoke with a start to someone’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, boss,” Jesse was saying softly. “You get a hold of Commander Morrison?”

“Hm? Oh, Jesse. Yeah I did. What time is it?”

“Half past three.”

“Shit. I didn’t mean to sleep so long. Could you uh, turn around so I can put some pants on?”

“Say, boss you ever think how hard it’d be for you to own a cat?”

“What?”

“Y’know. Cause every stitch of clothing you own is black.”

The commander had gone to a drawer and pulled out a pair of boxer-briefs, which were indeed black.

“Well, I don’t like cats and this way everything matches. I don’t have to think about it.”

“So it’s efficiency.”

“Yeah.”

“Not you likin’ to look edgy.”

“Edgy? What’s that?”

“It don’t matter. It’s just kinda peculiar how you go to the trouble of havin’ your undershirts tailored, then tell me you wear all black on account of it’s easier.”

“You’ve got a mouth today, boy. And they’re not tailored. They’re bespoke.”

Jesse threw his head back and laughed. “Christ, boss, I never had you figured for such a snob!”

“I’m not a snob.”

“No?”

“No. A snob is someone who wants to make other people feel inferior. I just know what I like and I have things the way I like them.”

“And what you like is bespoke undershirts.”

“Don’t knock ‘em. Maybe we’ll have a couple made for you. Try wearing those for a while and then see who’s a snob.”

“Boss, if you want to prove you ain’t a snob, I don’t think havin’ underwear custom made for people is the way to go about it.”

“I don’t want to prove I’m not a snob. You can turn back around now. I don’t want to prove I’m not a snob, I’d just like you to understand why I do things the way I do them.”

“I’d—I’d like that.”

The commander was instantly uncomfortable at the earnest turn the conversation was taking, so he changed the subject abruptly.

“Jack dropped some bombs on me, by the way.”

“You want to go out for a smoke?”

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary. The overall impression I got was that we’re probably alright to trust Ryuu.”

“How do you figure?”

The commander gave Jesse a brief summary of the conversation, naturally excepting the discussion of Jesse and Hanzo.

“And Commander Morrison, he kept it from you all these years?” Jesse said. There was a note of sympathy and a little indignation in his voice.

“And Angela.”

“Well, Dr. Ziegler’s different. I reckon it’s pretty much her job keepin’ secrets. Plus you and her ain’t in love.”

“Jack and I aren’t in love, either,” Reyes muttered before he could stop himself.

“What do you mean you ain’t?” Jesse said, aghast. “How rough was that talk?”

“Jesus, Jesse, I shouldn’t even be talking to you about these things. It’s extremely unprofessional.”

“Nice try, boss, but I think professional went out the window when I had breakfast with y’all. But what happened, though? You said you was lucky and the talk we had did some good.”

“I was mistaken. Apparently to Jack, it was just a fuck.”

Reyes said this in the steady, measured tone he used when he was distressed. Jesse knew it.

“Aw, boss. That’s awful. I’m real sorry.”

“It’s fine, Jesse. I’m a grown man. I’m not walking around heartbroken about it.”

“I’d be, but I ain’t a grown man.”

“What do you mean it’s Dr. Ziegler’s job keeping secrets?”

“What? Oh, like, patient confidentiality and all that. She can’t go blabbin’ folks’ medical business around, elsewise she’d lose her doctor license.”

“That’s true, but this wasn’t someone’s medical business. And why do you know so much about patient confidentiality?”

Jesse’s face grew red and he mumbled, “I just—she told me somethin’ about it when I was in there for my checkup and whatnot is all.”

Reyes crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow.

“Come on, boss. Don’t give me that hairy eyeball. I ain’t responsible for what the doc does.”

“No, you’re not. And we’re way off topic here. The point was supposed to be that we can probably trust Ryuu as far as our mission goes. Unless you still have reservations. In which case, we should hash those out.”

“I can’t rightly say if I do, boss,” Jesse said musingly. “It’s only I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missin’ a piece of the puzzle. Like there’s somethin’ else goin’ on. And that Sakura Logistics Supply company, they’re a hundred percent on the up-and-up?”

“Clean as a whistle. The CEO and board are based out of London, and they have a two century-long record of scrupulous adherence to international trade laws. Their books go back to the time when accountants wrote entries with ink and paper and added up the sums in their heads.”

“Boss, you think maybe since you and I been dealin’ with bad guys so long, we just can’t help lookin’ for the poison in every apple?”

“Maybe, Jesse. But I’ve also learned to trust your instincts. Look, what I didn’t tell Jack was that in return for helping us, Ryuu wants us to have the Imagawa database decrypted here. By his cryptologists.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a big ask, boss. For him lendin’ us one assassin and a couple of rooms.”

“He says he wants it as a bargaining chip to protect his family. In case Overwatch decides they may as well take down another Yakuza empire while they’re in the neighborhood.”

“It ain’t unreasonable on his end. Sounds like he’s just bein’ prudent. But us handin’ him a weapon like that…we may as well string up our own nooses.”

“Only if he ever used it against us. Otherwise no one would know.”

“So I reckon the question is, how much do you trust our own agency? You think they’d give him cause to use it?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, Jesse, if they’d attack him and his clan after they assisted us in uncovering an infiltrator and dealing with a threat like this, then I’m not sure I wouldn’t take Ryuu’s side. In fact… I’m sure I would take his side.”

Jesse’s face lost a little color, but he squared his shoulders and set his jaw. “I would too, boss.”

“Jesse…think about what you’re saying before you make a rash decision. It could mean the end of your career. Exile from the agency that saved you from your former life and gave you a second chance. You could end up a hunted man again.”

“That agency didn’t do jack for me, boss. It was you as took me on and gave me shot at bein’ somethin’ worth a damn. So if they want to hunt you, they’ll have to hunt me. ‘Whither thou goest,’ and all that.”

“Whither what?”

“You’re about the worst Catholic I ever met,” Jesse laughed. “You don’t know your scripture for shit. In the book of Ruth, the old woman tries to shake off the young one, figurin’ the gal to have a better go without her old mother-in-law hangin’ around spookin’ off the marriageable gents. But the young one, Ruth, she won’t have it. She says, ‘Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go. Whither thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God, my God.’ It’s as pretty as a poem and it always stuck with me, ‘cause it’s about loyalty, you know? Loyalty to the end, no matter what.”

Those old knots in Reyes’ stomach tightened like barbed wire. His chest constricted painfully, and he found he couldn’t breathe. He got up and lit a cigarette to buy himself time to get his voice in order.

“Well. Alright,” he said slowly. “I guess we’ve made our decision.”

“Yeah.” Jesse took a shaky breath. “I reckon that’s about the size of it.”

“I’m sorry, Jesse. I dragged you into this lion’s den without thinking about what the consequences might be. Let’s just hope it never comes down to a choice.”

The boy nodded abstractedly and lit a cigarette for himself. Reyes watched him from the corner of his eye as he stretched out in a chair and blew little smoke rings up at the ceiling.

“Your mother,” he said, “she was Catholic?”

“Nah, she was a Baptist. She didn’t have no truck with Catholics.”

Jesse laughed to himself, as if there was a joke in the statement his commander wasn’t privy to.

“I was raised Catholic, but I don’t practice,” Reyes said. “I haven’t been to a mass or confession in…well, since I was a kid.”

“I ain’t been to church in a grip, neither boss. I ain’t religious. It’s just my ma taught me so much bible. Rememberin’ it is kinda like keepin’ her alive. Like I can still hear her sweet voice talkin’ to me and makin’ things alright.”

“She sounds like a good woman.”

“She was, boss. And pretty as an angel in a picture. I don’t look nothin’ like her. I’m all browns and tans. She was real fair skinned like a princess, and she had the softest goldilocks blonde hair and eyes so blue you could almost swim in ‘em.”

“Do you have any pictures of her?”

“Just the ones in my head. I reckon those are good enough. Can’t get lost or tore up or nothin’.”

“So you look like your father, then?”

“I—I don’t know, boss,” Jesse said, suddenly agitated. “I don’t want to talk about this no more.”

He jumped out of his chair and snuffed his cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” the commander said. “I didn’t mean to pry into personal things that might be painful for you.”

“No sweat,” Jesse said, wiping actual perspiration from his brow. “I reckon I’m just bein’ a crybaby on account of all the stress and whatnot. I better go find the boys, anyhow. Genji’s gettin’ cantankerous ‘cause he’s feelin’ left out of what we’re all doin’, so I said we’d go to the arcade, just him and me, today.”

“Ok, Jesse. I’ll see you later.”

The commander moved as if he intended to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder, but Jesse grinned and tipped his hat, making a hasty retreat before the man could touch him.

About fifteen minutes before dinner was set to be served, Reyes received an incoming call from Jesse.

“Hey Jesse, what’s up?”

“Hey there, boss. Listen, Genji’s got to drinkin’ and he dragged us out to some bar in the city. I’m workin’ on coaxin’ him homeward, but we ain’t gonna make it in time for supper even supposin’ we left now. Could you maybe help me out with the master? I don’t want Genji to get in trouble or nothin’.”

“What about his bodyguards? Can’t they help you get him out of there?”

“They ain’t no help at all, boss. They’re pretendin’ not to speak English even though—Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you, Hideo, I know you understand me!—even though they all understood me just fine when we met the other day. They all work for Genji and he’s pretty belligerent about stayin’ here and drinkin’. I’m over a barrel unless I want to leave him here, and I don’t reckon that’d be a good idea.”

“No, you shouldn’t leave him there, no matter what the case. Have you eaten?”

“Well, yes, boss. That’s mighty motherly of you to ask.”

“I’m not asking because I’m concerned for your nutrition, Jesse. If you’ve eaten, I can tell Ryuu you went to dinner in the city.”

“Oh, gotcha. Thanks, boss.”

“Don’t thank me, just get that kid back here.”

Reyes slammed his phone down angrily onto the dresser and continued buttoning his shirt. He met the old master and the young master in the drawing room and he made Jesse and Genji’s excuses as the three walked in to dinner together. When he told them the boys had chosen to eat dinner in the city, Hanzo made a disgusted face and the old master raised an eyebrow.

“It is discourteous of my son,” he said as he seated himself, “to involve Jesse in his misbehavior. I am afraid your agent may have deceived you concerning their activities, Gabriel.”

“No, Ryuu, he didn’t deceive me. He told me they ate in the city and I thought it would be wiser to relay that part of the story than to involve myself by tale-bearing. I apologize for that, and for my subordinate’s lack of judgement.”

“No apology is necessary,” the master said, smiling cordially. “Genji is most headstrong and I cannot imagine Jesse has the heart to refuse him when he becomes insistent. We three men must attempt to enjoy each other’s company without the young people, then.”

The conversation and the meal were cheery and enjoyable. The commander and the master spoke companionably about old times and new, and the food was of the kind people with good taste eat at home, rather than the ostentatious, elaborate concoctions guests are normally subjected to. Reyes was genuinely happy to talk more freely with his old friend than he had heretofore, but his attention persisted in gravitating toward the strangely graceful boy seated across from him. He found Hanzo to be deferential to the point of almost total silence in his father’s presence. Not that he sulked or distanced himself. He seemed to be serenely at ease, listening with apparent interest to all that was said, smiling when it was appropriate, and replying courteously when spoken to. But the commander began to form a strong impression that the boy was present only as an ornament to his father’s hospitality, and what was more, that the boy was aware of the fact.

The word ‘geisha’ rose in the commander’s mind. He balked at the thought, which was insulting to both the boy and his father, but he found he couldn’t quite push it away. The boy met his gaze suddenly, and with a facility that seemed almost practiced, he instantly dropped his sooty lashes over his black eyes and looked demurely down at his plate. The barest hint of pink colored his cheeks, then faded back into his pale-olive skin, as if called and dismissed at will. Reyes was an old spy, and he knew this game well. He waited and surreptitiously observed. Either the boy was an amateur, and would look up again right away, or he would delay until the moment when it would be most effective, and then he would allow Reyes to catch him in an unguarded glance.

A beat. Two beats. A full minute. The boy’s eyes remained on his plate, absorbed in his delicate handling of dainty bits of food with ivory chopsticks. There it was. The old master was recounting a story that made the commander look particularly heroic. Reyes glanced at the boy to find the black eyes already fixed on him, lips slightly parted as if enraptured by the tale of his heroic deeds, then boom: the eyelashes fell and the lips widened in a barely detectable smile. The effect was devastating. Or it would have been so, if unleashed on a man less vigilant than our wily old veteran. Perhaps a man younger, less hardened by time and travail, more prone to romantic ideals. An innocent.

The commander swallowed a hard, cold knot of wrath that rose in his throat. Either Ryuu's boy was impossibly naïve, or he was an incredibly skilled manipulator. Reyes, erring on the side of caution as he thought, was enraged by the idea that this little houri had been set loose upon Jesse to wreck and brutalize his dear, sweet, ridiculous heart. And to what end? What could be gained by etching another deep, ugly scar into that innocent soul?

But, as we have said, Reyes was no neophyte. He knew better than to let his emotions show on his face. He laughed agreeably at the master’s animated account of their old adventures, and was easy and affable all through the meal. The tea was served, and the three sat in contented silence for a few minutes, sipping it slowly and savoring its soothing vapor.

After a space, the master said, “Gabriel, have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?”

“I have, Ryuu.” He glanced at the boy.

“My son is in my full confidence in this matter,” the master said with a wave of his hand. “You may speak freely before him.”

“I think, and Jesse agrees, that we should reciprocate the kindness and trust you have shown us. I am willing to allow the Imagawa database to be decrypted here, by your people.”

“Thank you, Gabriel. It means a great deal to me.”

“Also, Ryuu, I spoke to Jack Morrison today. He sends his warmest regards.”

“Ah, Jack. He is a good man.”

“He is.”

A look of understanding passed between the two men, and they shook hands across the table. The master rose, and the other two rose as well.

“My son,” he said, “perhaps you would play for us a little while we walk in the garden.”

“Yes, father,” Hanzo said. Bowing to the older men, he turned and glided swiftly from the room.

“Where is he going?” Reyes asked. “Isn’t his koto on the way to the garden?”

“Ah, yes, but he will fetch it and begin to play before we arrive, so that we may enter the garden to the sound of its strings.” The master gave a paternal little chuckle. “He prefers to do it this way for effect. Teenaged boys are very vain.”

The two friends began to walk at a leisurely pace toward the garden.

“Ryuu, may I ask you something that may be…indelicate?”

The master smiled. “You want to know why I allow my son to be involved with your boy.”

“Yes. I do. It doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing that fathers normally encourage.”

The master laced his fingers together and gazed into the distance, as if he were collecting his thoughts.

“When one is training a spirited horse,” he began slowly, “it is sometimes wise to…lengthen the tether. If the horse is always straining at the bit, and is never allowed the freedom to misstep, it will grow to resent the bridle as its only source of discomfort. If the master then suddenly allows this horse to govern itself entirely, it may run wild and stumble into much graver error, having not experienced the consequences of such recklessness. It is much the same with a spirited young man. Hanzo bears the weight of thousands upon his shoulders. He will be expected to rule wisely. He will be expected to marry and produce an heir. His bride has already been chosen. If he is never allowed the happiness and heartache of a youthful indiscretion, he may fall into a far graver error later in life, when there is no guiding hand to help him back to the path, and the cost is not only to himself.”

Reyes gazed down at his friend in silence. Then he sighed and smiled sadly.

“So you’re saying sometimes kids have to get themselves hurt and we have to let them.”

“Sometimes the burned hand teaches best, Gabriel,” the master said. “Let us be grateful that our boys have chosen to share this difficult lesson with each other, and not to learn it in a harder school.”

“I agree with you, Ryuu, but I have to remind you that Jesse is not my son. That’s twice tonight you’ve called him my boy.”

“Ah, forgive me,” the old master said with chuckle. “You are both tall Americans and look very much alike to me. And your manner toward the boy is so naturally paternal, it is easy to forget. Excuse an old man’s cloudiness of mind.”

“You’re not an old man, Ryuu,” Reyes said. “Not yet.”

“I am nearly sixty years old, Gabriel. And I feel it more each day. I am not blessed with your particular…talent for youthfulness.”

He looked up at the commander and grinned slyly. Reyes laughed a big, hearty laugh and clapped his old friend on the shoulder. They had reached the edge of the garden, and the faint strains of Hanzo’s koto could be heard wafting toward them between the trees. The commander stopped his friend to have one more word while they were still out of earshot.

“Ryuu, Jesse is not my boy, but I—I love him like a son. It’s hard for me to see him speeding headlong into heartbreak like this. If it’s mutual and genuine, then there’s nothing we can do to spare them, and nothing we _should_ do. But your son is…I’m afraid he’s using this bashful innocent act of his to make Jesse believe he cares for him more than he does. If that’s the case, I can’t let it go on.”

A look of pain strained the master’s tranquil features.

“Gabriel, I assure you that my son’s diffidence and naïveté are no act. He is as you see him. But…he is also as you have not yet seen him. He is divided in his spirit. One half of him is but a child, new to the world and unused to its cruelties. The other half is a killer. A fierce, ruthless, remorseless killer. Just as innocent, but with the innocence of a wild animal, which hunts and kills without malice, but simply because it was born to do so.”

“What do you mean, Ryuu?” the commander said, stepping back in alarm. “Hanzo is…he has separate personalities?”

“No, no, you mistake me. It is not at all like that. He is always one, always aware. When he is called to undertake violent tasks, when the heat of combat is on him, the animal side comes forward. It is as if…”

“As if someone flipped a switch in his head?”

“Yes, that is an apt metaphor for it. The animal aspect, it shields him from the torment of spirit that would prevent another boy so young from doing the things he must do. It prevents him from hesitating out of fear or guilt. It is what makes him such a formidable combatant.”

“I saw a bit of that today, actually,” the commander said. “We sparred a little in the practice yard. He did seem different to me. Wild and fierce. But then right afterward, he was just as polite and stiff as ever.”

“That is well. That means he is succeeding in his efforts to control it. To become unified in spirit.”

“That’s quite an undertaking for an eighteen-year-old boy.”

“He is no ordinary eighteen-year-old boy,” the father said, smiling proudly.

“He certainly isn’t.”

The two men recommenced their walk, and eventually approached the subject of their recent conversation, who was sitting tranquilly plucking the strings of his koto under the roof of the tea house. Just then, Reye’s phone chirped in his pocket. He slid it out and hit the silence button. Seeing that it was Jesse calling, he excused himself and walked a few feet away to answer it.

“Jesse,” he hissed into the speaker. “Where the fuck are you two? It’s been hours.”

“I…I ain’t exactly sure, boss.”

The commander froze. A deadly chill gripped his gut.

“Jesse what’s wrong?”

There was a sound like a scrape and a clatter, as if the boy had dropped the phone. Then a pause.

“Now you know,” an unfamiliar voice said, “that your young friend is alive. Is it safe to assume you would like him to remain so?”


	12. The Four Horsemen

“Who are you and what are your demands,” Commander Reyes said evenly.

He turned to face the old master and Hanzo, who immediately observed the drastic change in his face. The old master took a step toward him and Hanzo leapt instinctively to his feet. For a moment that felt like a year, the three men stared at each other.

“All you need to know,” the voice on the phone said at last, “is that we have your friend and that he is alive. For the moment.”

The voice had a rasping, metallic quality to it and it spoke slowly as if with effort. There was low hum on the line, like some sort of electronic interference.

“If you want something from me in exchange for his life, then you are going to have to tell me what it is that you want,” Reyes said flatly. “That is how these things customarily proceed.”

“Do not attempt to locate him by means of this device. It will be destroyed when we have finished speaking. We will be in contact, Commander Reyes.”

The line went dead. Reyes cursed under his breath and just barely restrained himself from smashing the phone against the wall. He shoved it into his pocket instead.

“Gabriel, what is it?” the master said anxiously.

“Someone’s got Jesse. They say he’s alive for the moment and they’ll be in contact then they hung up.”

“And Genji? What of Genji?”

Reyes shook his head. “They only mentioned Jesse.”

“But Jesse, he is alive?” the archer said. “You know this?”

“I spoke to him briefly when I first picked up the call. I asked where he was and he said he wasn’t sure, then they took the phone. He sounded…out of it. Slurred his words a little. They either beat or drugged him.”

“Man? Woman? Japanese? American?” the archer demanded.

“Couldn’t tell. The voice was being electronically disguised. Hanzo, do you have any idea where they might’ve been? Did either of them mention any specific place they might be going?”

“They only said they meant to visit the arcade nearby. I did not know of their intention to travel to the city.”

“No matter, I can track the movements of Jesse’s phone. That’ll give us a precise location. The first thing we need to do is find out what happened to Genji. Hopefully he escaped. We can do the same thing with his phone if you’ll give me the number.” The commander turned to his friend, who had been gazing out into the garden as they spoke. “Ryuu, are you with us? We’ve got to get to work now.”

“Yes,” the old master said hoarsely. “I am with you. I am with you. Hanzo, run to the security center and place the staff on a level three alert. We will meet you there.”

Hanzo bowed and held out his hand. His father dropped something into it that looked like a flat, gold coin with a glowing red symbol in the center, and the boy darted away. The two older men followed after him at a brisk pace.

“Ryuu, are you alright?” the commander asked.

“I will be alright, Gabriel. My son—my son is strong.”

“He is. And in all likelihood, he escaped and is on his way back here. You should deploy some personnel to start searching for him.”

“Of course. Gabriel, I must confess that my emotional state is…not ideal,” his friend said slowly. “Even if my mind were not affected by my personal distress, I would still be far less qualified by training and experience to manage such a situation. Perhaps you would do me the favor of…taking command in this emergency.”

“Are you asking me to work for you?”

“No, my friend,” the old master said with a rueful laugh. “I would not insult you by such an offer. I am asking you to take over in my place.”

“I know what you’re doing and it’s very kind,” Reyes said. “I’m to blame for this situation and I intend to make it right. We’re going to get them back, Ryuu. With you in command. I’ll act as your lieutenant if you want to give me that kind of authority.”

“Thank you, Gabriel. I do.”

“Alright then. Inform your people that I’ll be directing things on the front end. I’m going to my room to get my computer and equipment. Should I assume the security center is down in the armory?”

“It is.”

“Ok, see you in five.”

Reyes and his friend exchanged hasty bows and he jogged off toward his room.

 

Jesse could not fully explain to himself exactly what had happened. At a certain point, things just got distorted. He was sitting next to Genji at a table. The bar was packed with people and the music was going thump, thump, thump and there were girls all around sitting down with them, laughing at Jesse’s accent, dancing with Genji. One of them got a hold of his hat. He went to get up and fetch it back, and he stumbled bad like he was drunk. He shook himself and tried again but his legs wouldn’t work right. It was mighty peculiar considerin’ all he’d had was a ginger ale. He got himself up and leaned against the wall. The girl with his hat was walkin’ back this way but she was comin’ toward him in a set of stop-motion frames and not movin’ regular like a decent person. He snatched his hat back and tried to say somethin’ but his lips felt all fat and heavy. His stomach turned and he thought he’d better get to the bathroom before he puked on the floor.

Then he was on his way to the bathroom or in the bathroom and someone grabbed his arm. One of them bodyguards maybe. Said Genji needs you, come quick. Then they was pushin’ him out the front door and there was a big black car and then a bright flash of light on account of someone hit him in the head. Then he was here. Sitting on a concrete floor in what looked to be a warehouse with his hands cuffed behind him. His head throbbed like it would split open, but his mind was clearer, so whatever intoxicant he’d been given must’ve been wearing off. He wondered why they hadn’t blindfolded him, but he knew better than to bring it up.

So he sat there blinking like he was trying to see straight and very rapidly took note of the positions of each of the men in the room with him. There were six of them, all of fairly similar height and build, obviously Japanese, despite their black masks and hoods. The two nearest him were looking at something. Jesse realized it was his sat-phone. They saw him looking and turned to face him.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you or nothin’,” he said slowly. “But did y’all plan to wear the same outfit, or was it just a fun coincidence?”

One of the men approached him and gave him a sharp cuff across the mouth.

“So y’all meant to dress up like cartoon ninjas as a group, huh? You goin’ to a costume party?”

“Silence!” The man said.

He dealt Jesse another blow across the face that knocked him onto his side. He spit out a little bit of blood and grinned. The other man stepped between them as the first was swinging his arm back for a third blow. He held Jesse’s phone out toward him.

“Call your commander,” he said.

His voice gave Jesse a start. It was strange and metallic and raspy like a mech’s voice. But he could see human eyes and skin above the mask. Jesse stared blankly at him.

“Call your commander,” the man repeated.

“Well, I reckon you’re the brains of the operation, then,” Jesse said. “How d’you suppose I can call anyone with my hands cuffed behind me?”

The man withdrew the phone, tapped at the screen, then held it up against Jesse’s ear. It was ringing. Fuck.

“Jesse,” the commander’s voice said in an angry undertone, “where the fuck are you two? It’s been hours.”

“I…I ain’t exactly sure boss,” Jesse said.

The man yanked the phone away, but it slipped in his gloved hand and he dropped it. He snatched it up and strode quickly away. Jesse could see he was still talking to the commander, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. He eyed the man who’d hit him.

“Y’know,” he said. “If all y’all wanted was to borrow my phone, you coulda just asked.”

The man took him by his hair and yanked his head backward, and then struck him hard in the face several times. He let go and Jesse fell to the floor again, bleeding from the mouth and nose.

“You might want to be careful how much debt you rack up there, partner,” Jesse said, spitting out some more blood. “I’ll be payin’ you back for every one of those.”

The man reached for him again, but the man with the strange robot voice stopped him with some sharp words in Japanese. Two more men hurried over and lifted Jesse to his knees. The first man yanked a black cloth hood over Jesse’s face and then he was made to stand. He stood there for a while, listening to the indistinct sounds of people moving about and speaking in hushed tones, then hands gripped his arms and shoved him along. He felt the air change and could hear that they’d gone outside. Then he was pushed into some sort of vehicle and men crowded in on either side of him and shut the doors. The engine started and the vehicle’s radio kicked on, shaking the speakers and torturing Jesse’s splitting head with cacophonous, frenetic electronic dance music.

At least they’re not complete idiots, he thought. This way I can’t identify any outside sounds to try and figure out where they’re takin’ me. This also boded well for his situation. You wouldn’t attempt to conceal your destination in this way from a man you intended to kill outright. He wondered what had happened to Genji, and if he was undergoing a similar ordeal, or if he’d gotten away. If these men knew who Jesse was, then they knew enough to know he was the far less valuable hostage, so Jesse wasn’t worried that they’d killed his young friend. But he was worried about what had happened to his hat.

After what seemed to be an hour’s drive, Jesse was yanked out of the vehicle and subjected to more jostling and shoving, till he was deposited at last on a cold concrete floor down a long flight of stairs. He heard the men’s footsteps retreating and then a door shut with a heavy, metallic bang. They’d left the hood over his head, but he could tell it was dark anyway. He took a deep breath, assessed his situation, and then laid down on his side to get some rest while he could. Jesse, being Jesse, was fast asleep inside a minute.

He awoke to the sound of the heavy door screeching on its hinges. Hey lay still, breathing evenly and listening. One set of footsteps approached and stopped right in front of him. He curled up and writhed in pain as a savage kick connected with his abdomen.

“Wake up, Mr. McCree,” the robot-voiced man said.

“You coulda—coulda said the wake up part first,” Jesse panted. “Then you wouldn’t’ve had to kick me.”

The man yanked the hood off Jesse’s head and dragged him to his knees by his hair. He was still masked, but his hood was thrown back, showing his long, jet black hair and fierce black eyes.

“You talk far too much for your own good, Mr. McCree,” his metallic voice grated.

“Ain’t talkin’ usually what fellas like you want when you pick someone up like this?”

“You are not being interrogated. There is nothing we need to know that you can tell us. You are…bait.”

“I’m bait, am I? Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I ain’t worth a damn to anyone as a hostage.”

“I think you are worth a great deal to Commander Gabriel Reyes.”

Jesse laughed aloud. “You got your wires crossed somewheres, tin man. If you think my agency’s gonna risk the life of one of their field commanders tryin’ to rescue a low-level grunt like me, you got another think comin’ and that’s a fact.”

The man regarded him with an odd, snakelike expression in his eyes. Maybe he was smiling? Jesse couldn’t tell, obviously, because of the mask.

“I think,” the man said slowly, “that your father would be more than willing to risk his life to rescue you.”

The words struck Jesse like a slap, but he recovered and parried.

“What’s my pa got to do with any of this business? I hate to disappoint you a second time, but I don’t even know who he was. Dead, drunk, or drifter, makes no nevermind to me.”

“Mr. McCree,” the man said. “Allow me to put this in terms your American brain can comprehend: do not attempt to bullshit me. We have accessed your organization’s medical records. Including Commander Reyes’ genetic profile and yours. We know you are his son.”

Jesse’s stomach turned and his heart ran ragged. This wasn’t the way this was supposed to happen. This wasn’t the way he wanted his father to find out he had a son. He’d had a million chances to say the words. Why hadn’t he told him? Just got it out and done and take it as it come? But he knew the answer. It was cowardice, plain and simple. He’d been afraid. The commander was the man he feared and admired most in the world. What would it have cost Jesse if the man had rejected him? Been disappointed in him? He’d worked his fingers to the bone to earn the man’s confidence and even respect, carefully picking his way toward a point where he could make himself believe the revelation might not be so unwelcome. And now this. He was going to find out from some Japanese James Bond villain with a robot voice and a stupid ninja costume that his fuck-up junior officer was also his fuck-up kid, and by the way, he’s being held hostage and needs to be saved like the fuck-up he is. Fucking fuck. Well. Best lean into it.

“I don’t think this is gonna play out the way you want it to, tin man,” Jesse said. “I reckon if my pa does come to get me, he’ll be comin’ like the four horsemen.”

“I am counting on it, Mr. McCree,” the man rasped. He appeared to be studying the young American’s face closely.

Jesse gazed back at him expectantly. “So…did you interrupt my nap for any particular reason? Or you just wantin’ to chat about my family?”

The man struck him so hard it sent him sprawling backward onto his cuffed hands. He gave a cry of pain and rolled onto his side as the man strode out of the room, shutting the big steel door behind him with a thunderous clang.

Fuck, Jesse thought. I need to piss.

 

Now at the helm of the Shimada empire, Commander Reyes was in rare form. The old master instructed his throng of soldiers and retainers that they were to treat commander Reyes as his general, and any order he gave as coming from the master’s own lips. Reyes’ natural charisma, however, transcended any hesitation they may have had regarding being placed under the authority of an outsider (and an American at that), and he promptly had the Shimada household, as Jesse would have put it, “hoppin’ like frogs on a hot car.”

He immediately organized units to recon the last-known locations of the boys’ sat-phones; Genji’s at the address of a swanky dance club called Harlem, and Jesse’s about a quarter of a mile to the east in an industrial complex. These units were manned by Shimada soldiers who were also members of local law-enforcement, and would have the cooperation of the city police. Reyes wanted to go a step further and have an all-points bulletin issued to the prefecture’s police bureaus stating that Shimada Genji was missing, and thus enlist the full services of the local authorities. He nixed the idea, however, at the request of the old master, who did not wish to have his family’s business so publicly known until it could no longer be avoided.

Reyes then shifted the castle guard rotations to a staggered, irregular schedule that would be difficult for any hostiles who may have been surveilling the place to predict and outmaneuver. He organized search teams, assigned areas of coverage, and got the Shimadas’ electronic surveillance people monitoring municipal and commercial communications for anything unusual.

Before the units had been dispatched to locate the boys’ phones, however, the Shimada Chief of Security received a telephone call from the Chief of the Shizuoka Prefectural Police. He informed them that an incident had occurred at an establishment called Harlem, and that witnesses on the scene claimed to have seen Shimada Genji among those involved. The Prefectural Police had very courteously issued a statement denying this, and wished to apologize to the Shimada family for allowing such gossip to be circulated in their city. However, he cordially invited the family’s agents to visit this establishment and to review the security camera footage, so that they would be able to dispute the rumor fortified by evidence they had witnessed firsthand. The Chief of the Shizuoka Prefectural Police was thanked personally by the master of the Shimada clan, who accepted his offer.

Agents were deployed to view the security footage and examine the scene, with orders to report immediately on what they learned. Meanwhile, the second unit headed to the last location of Jesse’s sat-phone, search teams departed to comb the city, and Reyes prepared himself for another call to Jack. He stepped out of the security center and climbed the stone stairs to the inner courtyard.

“Commander Reyes,” Jack said cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”

“Jesse,” Reyes replied. “Someone took him. He’s being held hostage.”

“Who are they and what are their demands,” Jack said, instantly all strike-commander.

“No demands yet. I spoke to him, so he’s alive. At least, he was alive two hours ago. The man’s voice was electronically disguised and they called from Jesse’s phone.”

“What’s your situation?”

Reyes gave the commander a brief rundown of what he’d accomplished so far, his current position in Shimada castle, and the cooperation of the local authorities.

“Must be nice to be a Yakuza boss. Our jobs would be a lot easier if the local cops were allowed to cooperate with us. You think it’s the Imagawa clan?”

“I’ve got no reason to suspect anyone else. But it’s bizarre that they didn’t mention Genji, Ryuu’s kid. Either they’ve got him or he escaped. But if they’ve got him, they’d have used him as the carrot, not Jesse. From their perspective, he’d be a far more reasonable choice of hostage. So we have to consider the third possibility, which is that he might be dead.”

“If they tried to grab him and he got killed in the scuffle, it'd make sense to keep Jesse to use as their backup. And no one’s seen or heard from the kid at all?”

“Not a word.” There was a pause.

“Gabe,” Morrison said, “I can’t let you handle this on your own.”

“Jack, I don’t want you to—”

“No, Gabe, I mean I can’t. Suspended or not, Jesse is an Overwatch special agent. His abduction by a hostile entity in a foreign country is officially my business.”

“If you and the cavalry come storming in here… Jack, they’ll kill him. You have to give me a chance to try to negotiate this thing.”

“It’ll take me two hours to muster an assault team and ten to fly there. That’ll give you twelve hours. That enough?”

“Yeah. I hope so.”

“I hope so too. Gabe…are you ok?”

“Hangin’ in there.”

“We’ll get him back, Gabriel.”

“I know we will.”

The commanders said goodbye and Reyes turned to head back into the security center. He was startled to find the pale, drawn face of the elder Shimada boy looking up at him.

“Hanzo,” he said. “I didn’t hear you come out. What’s up?”

“Gabe…is my brother dead?” the boy asked.

“I don’t know, son. I hope not.”

“Are they going to kill Jesse?” The boy’s voice quivered and he turned away.

Reyes laid a hand on his shoulder and turned him gently back around. Streams of unwonted tears streaked the boy’s white cheeks. He gazed up at the man in helpless, pleading pain. Without intending to do it, Reyes took the young master in his arms and held him tightly to his chest. The boy wept and the stern commander rocked him and soothed him like a child. Because he was a child. Only eighteen years old, carrying the weight of an empire, his brother missing, and his love in the hands of an enemy. Such a strain would have broken a man of many more years.

When the boy was calm, Reyes stood back and looked gravely down into his wet, black eyes. “We are going to get him back. I swear it. We are going to get them both back.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said, wiping away his tears. He took a deep breath. “Gabe, please give me something to do. My father is in distress and will not speak to me. I—I must do something.”

“Alright, son. If you think you can handle it, I’m sorely in need of a right-hand man. Someone to carry messages, get things I need, all that. Jesse’s job. You up for that?”

“Yes, sir, I am. I would like very much to do that if it would be of any help you.”

“It will. Hang on.”

The commander’s phone had buzzed. He looked at the screen. It was an Overwatch number. Why would Jack be calling from his office line?

“Hanzo, this is my commander, so I have to take it. Run inside and ask the security chief if there’s any word from that dance club.”

The boy bowed and walked briskly away.

“Reyes,” the commander said to the phone.

“Gabriel, hello. I am glad I caught you.” It was a soft female voice with just a slight hint of a German or Swiss accent.

Reyes’ face hardened into a scowl. “Angela. This is a bad time. What do you need?”

“Gabriel, I am not calling because I enjoy talking to you. There is something I have to tell you and you need to know it before you make any decisions regarding Jesse’s kidnapping.”

“Abduction, Angela, he’s an agent, not a lost boy. And how the fuck do you already know? It's been twenty minutes since I told Jack.”

“I am the chief of medical operations here, Gabriel. I am on the first-tier call roster just like you. I don’t have time to do this with you. Listen, there is something you need to know—”

“You said that. Get to it.”

“—about Jesse,” she said, talking through his interruption. “Gabriel...Jesse is your son.”

Silence.

“Gabriel? Are you there?”

“Bullshit,” the commander growled.

“It is not bullsh—”

“Bullshit,” he repeated. “Angela, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but Jesse is nineteen years old. I haven’t been with a woman in forty years. I’d tell you the exact date, but I think you probably remember.”

“I’m sure you haven’t Gabriel, but it is not like that. Jesse was…well…Jesse was my greatest achievement, really. The woman he remembers as his mother was the surrogate for one of the embryos I fertilized with your enhanced DNA. He was the only one that carried to term. I don’t have time to explain the parameters for you right now, but the experiment was intended to test whether any of your genetic augmentations would transmit to offspring.”

“The woman he remembers—Angela, what the fuck are you saying? We picked the kid up orphaned and running with a violent biker gang. We found him by chance during a raid. There’s no way what you’re saying is remotely possible.”

“The death of the surrogate and the hardships of Jesse’s life were part of the experiment, Gabriel. DNA can only take one so far. We needed to test his natural strength and resilience under real-world conditions. He did well. He far exceeded our expectations. When the danger to his life became too great to justify any longer, we sent you to retrieve him.”

“Sent me. To retrieve him,” the commander said numbly. “Does he know?”

“He only knows that you are his father, and that the pregnancy was induced. Nothing else. After he arrived, I intended to tell you, but I kept it from you at his request. He said he wanted to find the right time and to tell you on his own. He really is a very sweet boy.”

“You are a fucking monster.”

“I am not a monster, Gabriel. I am a scientist.”

“Why, Angela. Why in god’s name are you telling me this now. For fuck’s sake.”

“Because I…I am concerned for his safety. If something were to happen to him, I didn’t want you never to have known.”

“Fuck you.”

“Gabriel, he’s my son too,” the woman blurted out.

“Jesus fucking Christ Angela, what?”

“The embryos were mine. My genetic enhancements and yours together had the best chance of successful transmission.”

“Why me? Of all your fucking guinea pigs, why me?”

“Because of all my subjects, you were the superior specimen by far.”

“So you stole my DNA and made a baby with it. Against my will and without my knowledge.”

“You gave me your DNA very willingly, Gabriel. You didn’t tell me what I was allowed to do with it. It would have been little different if I had become pregnant.”

“Little different? You held onto it for twenty god damned years!”

“The science wasn’t where it needed to be yet. I waited for the right time.”

“Does Jack know?”

“No. I thought you might want to tell him yourself.”

“Angela, I am going to hang up now, but before I do, know this: You will let that boy have his memories of his mother. If you ever breathe a word of any of this monstrosity to him, I will kill you.”

“Alright, Gabriel. I suppose that is fair.”

“Go to hell.”

Reyes hit the end call button and shoved the phone into his pocket. He stood perfectly still, staring out into the dark courtyard for a long while. Then, soldier that he was, he gritted his teeth and went back to work.

 


	13. Al and Ed

Commander Reyes was hard at work, listening as reports came in from the search teams, issuing orders to personnel, acting, reacting, speaking, even thinking, all on autopilot. Gabriel himself was somewhere else entirely, submerged in deep meditation. He had known. Somehow he’d always known. He had a son. A son. A human being created from a part of him (and a part of that icy-veined hell-bitch, but part of him nonetheless). His reaction to Angela’s revelation had been one of anger, but not actual surprise. Disbelief, but at her attitude and her role in the thing, not at the thing itself. He simply knew it was true. Not in some ethereal, hippie, psychic sense, as he put it to himself, but in his gut. By instinct. Almost by scent.

He’d claimed possession of the boy the moment he’d seen him. Assumed a proprietary ascendency over him without hesitation or apology. Jesse was already legal adult when they’d brought him in. He’d been living on his own and fending for himself for many years. He would have had every right to shrug off his commander’s despotic supervision. To tell him that when business hours were over, his time was his own, so back off, old man. But he hadn’t. He’d responded like a violin string to a virtuoso’s bow. Like a dancer following the lead of an expert partner. Fallen so quickly and willingly under his commander’s authority, that the man had not been compelled to consider why. He’d simply taken Jesse’s obedience for granted and never given it a second thought. He was giving it a second, third, and fourth thought now.

Those knots in his stomach, that lowering agitation, his intense jealousy over Jesse’s new lover…he had almost thought he was falling for the boy himself. And he had been. Falling in love. Not a base, sexual love, but pure, honorable, platonic love. Filial. Paternal. He realized with a deep wrench that he loved his son. Loved him so much it was breaking his heart.

All at once, he was twelve years old again. Boarding the train with the corpses of his family. They were talking and smiling, teasing each other and consulting about seating arrangements. Blissfully unaware that they were already dead. Survivors of deep trauma often experience memory loss surrounding the traumatic event. No such blessed blackness veiled his memory. He still heard the heavy boom of impact. The tinkle of shattering glass. The shriek of twisting metal. Still saw his sister’s face contort as she was impaled on a dislodged handrail. Still saw his baby brother crushed in his mother’s arms as they were pinned together beneath the collapsing bulkhead. The only thing of which he had no memory was his own pain. His face had been lacerated by flying glass and metal. His jaw and eye socket fractured. His arms and his left leg broken. His ribs nearly all cracked. But he had no memory of any pain until his long, tortured recovery in the hospital, confounded by lawyers and harried by relatives until he withdrew into a sullen, tearless silence.

Then his father’s relatives had tried to assume custody of him. His legal counsel believed they wanted to get control the money, and young master Gabriel was inclined to agree. They fought a tedious court battle and won. He was placed under the guardianship of his attorneys until he should turn eighteen. He repudiated and disowned his relatives en masse, and injunctions were filed against their attempting to communicate with him. Thus severed from the pain and the past, he moved on alone. He finished his secondary education by private tutors, and joined the Army at eighteen. He never let himself care for another human being until he met Jack. Then Jesse. And now he was in very real danger of losing one of them. Losing his son. Losing the only person with whom he shared a tangible, indissoluble connection. He was suddenly very grateful for the taciturn, black-haired boy at his side. Glad that he had embraced and comforted him so impetuously a little while before. Grateful to share, even secretly, his grief and anxiety with someone who loved Jesse as well. He was startled out of his reverie by Hanzo’s voice.

“What is it, sir?” the boy was saying.

Apparently the commander had been staring absently down at him for some time.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry, son. It was nothing. Just woolgathering. A habit of old men, I’m afraid. I didn’t mean to stare a hole in your head that way.”

“Are you an old man, Gabe?” Hanzo asked solemnly. “My father says that you are older than he is.”

“I am,” the commander said with a grim smile. “Much older. I’ll be eighty-five in November.”

The boy gazed up at him for a few more seconds, then he simply nodded and returned to his work. Reyes had him examining the personnel files of the five bodyguards who had accompanied Genji and Jesse on their ill-fated excursion, and from whom nothing had been heard. They were all now under suspicion of aiding in the abduction of Shimada Genji and Jesse McCree. The security cameras at Harlem had shown Genji struggling with several young men, most of whom were clearly identifiable as belonging to his bodyguard. It appeared that they were attempting to pull him toward the back exit of the club. Staggering with intoxication, he had still managed to break free and toss two of them over tables before the other three regained their hold on him and dragged him out the back exit. The proprietor of the establishment had happily handed over the security system’s storage drive, and the recon unit was bringing it back for Reyes to review right now.

The commander smiled inwardly at Hanzo’s odd manner, and then checked the time. 2:19am. Three hours since the call from the kidnappers. Two hours since his call to Jack. Ten hours till Jack would come storming in with the shock-troops and get his boy killed. He didn’t doubt they intended to kill Jesse anyway, but he might have a chance of getting him out with an offer to exchange himself. The best chance would be a quick, stealth extraction. But that wasn’t an option due to his position at the head of the Shimada’s security forces, and because they didn’t know where Jesse was yet. He glanced at the boy beside him. Then again, but this time his eyes rested on the boy’s face till he looked up at him.

“Hanzo,” Reyes said. “They wouldn’t be stupid enough to be holding them in Imagawa Castle, would they?”

“I do not know…would they?”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“You want to—” The commander’s thought was interrupted by several things happening at once.

The unit from the Harlem club arrived with the security footage, the unit that had been dispatched to the location of Jesse’s phone reported in to the security line, and the commander’s phone rang with a call from an unidentified number. The commander held his hand up to signal the unit leader to wait a moment and beckoned to Ryuu, who was across the room speaking with his Security Chief. Ryuu came to the desk and Hanzo stepped away to make room for him. The commander set the phone to speaker mode and laid it on the desk.

“Reyes.”

“Commander Reyes.” The electronically disguised voice crackled through the speakers. “We are prepared to relate our demands.”

“You know how this works,” Reyes said. “Let me talk to him first.”

A pause.

“Hey, boss, I might be a little late for work tomorrow. I ran into—” There was a sound like an open hand striking flesh and Jesse’s voice receded into the background saying, “Alright, alright, no need to get ornery,” followed by another slap.

“So you see, your impudent son is alive,” the voice said.

“What about the other one,” Reyes replied. “The son of Shimada Sojiro.”

“The unrecognized bastard of Shimada Sojiro is also with us,” the voice spat. “If his father has any interest in retrieving him.”

“Let us talk to him first and then explain your demands,” Reyes said calmly.

“Of course.”

There was a pause of two minutes or so. Genji was apparently being kept in a different location from Jesse. This was fairly standard practice when handling high-value, combat-trained captives, which Reyes had done many times. He reassured the old master of this, then the electronic voice came back.

“Your bastard son,” it said.

“Father,” Genji’s voice trembled and he slurred his words as if he were still intoxicated. “I am—I am alive…I have been—” his voice cut off abruptly.

After a few seconds, the abductor said, “Regarding our demands. Commander, Shimada Sojiro, are you both listening?”

“I am,” Reyes said.

“I am,” said the old master.

“Our demands are simple. We will exchange your sons for yourselves.”

“Too simple,” Reyes replied evenly. “Elaborate.”

“You will come to us, you will surrender yourselves, and they will go free. Commander Reyes, you will remain with us indefinitely, as…surety against further hostility from your organization. Shimada Sojiro, you will disinherit your elder son and recognize your younger son, who is also the natural son of Imagawa Suzume, as your heir. You will then abdicate your position as master of the Shimada clan in favor of your younger son. The Shimada clan will relinquish its sovereignty and be absorbed into the Imagawa clan. The two clans will be united under the new master, Imagawa Genji, rather than torn by conflict, as has so long been the case.”

“The other families will never agree to it,” the old master said.

A hissing, metallic laugh. “I think that they will be inclined to see reason, when the alternative is war.”

“I must summon the heads of the other families,” the old master replied. “Give me some time.”

“When we all stand here together, under one roof, the heads of the families will be summoned. We will present this new order to them. Those who object will be executed.”

“And you expect us to just come walking into Imagawa Castle, without any guarantee of the boys’ safety,” the commander said.

“I do. You, Shimada Sojiro, and Shimada Hanzo. If others accompany you, the boys will be executed. If all three of you do not arrive, the boys will be executed. Let us not linger on this. You have one hour.”

The line went dead.

“They will use my son to destroy my family,” the old master said. A tear rolled down his stoic face. He wiped it away and looked about him. “Hanzo,” he said. “Where is Hanzo?”

“I am here, father,” the boy said, stepping forward to join the two men.

“Something about this doesn’t sound right to me,” Reyes said. "They must know that a political upheaval of this magnitude isn’t something that can be done at the drop of a hat. They’re up to something else.”

“Their claim to desire you as a hostage against attacks by Overwatch does not make sense either,” the old master replied. “That would almost certainly have the opposite effect.”

“Unless that’s what they want. To provoke a war with Overwatch.”

“With the combined strength of the Shimada and Imagawa clans,” Ryuu said slowly, “your organization would be far outmatched, Gabriel.”

“Fuck,” Reyes said. “So that’s it. They’re trying to start a war they know they’ll win. They’re going to kill all three of us, and probably Jesse, too. With no one to dispute Genji, they might not even need you to recognize him to make the other families accept him as the master. But what is Genji’s claim to lead the Imagawa clan at all, since Ichiro isn’t his father?”

“Imagawa Suzume was the only child and heir of the former master of the Imagawa clan. She officially abdicated her right to her husband, who ruled in her stead, as had been the custom in the old times. Thus, when he cast her out for her adultery, she had no lawful claim to defend herself. But Genji, being her son, is still the blood heir to Imagawa Yoichi.”

“I see. That puts them in a pretty solid position if they intend to assert his rights. I just wish we knew what we were walking into ahead of time, here.” He thought for a moment. “Hanzo, how far can those dragons go?”

 

Jesse attempted to ignore the ache and pressure in his bladder, and assessed his surroundings. If this wasn’t an interrogation room, then he’d never been in one. There were no windows except a thin, oblong slat in the heavy steel door, which was covered with wire-mesh glass. The floor and walls were concrete and dipped just slightly toward the center of the room, where there was a metal grate over a large drain. A steel utility table sat against the wall closest to the door, and a wide, sturdy beam with large steel hooks drilled into it ran along the center of the ceiling. An interrogation room, certainly. Or a slaughter room. He craned his neck around, searching about in the dim light. There it was. Near the ground on the wall behind him was a spigot with a faucet where a hose could be attached to wash the floor. So a slaughter room. A pretty good intimidation tactic. Or, Jesse thought with a chill, a practical necessity.

His more immediate concern, however, was the ever more urgent need to urinate. The pain in his bladder was becoming agonizing. He staggered up, went to the door and pressed his face against the glass. It was dark but for a few overhead lights on what appeared to be an overhang leading out into some kind of paved courtyard. He tried to recall the schematics of Imagawa castle, but he couldn’t make out any identifying architecture. There was no one in sight, so he kicked the door and yelled. Nothing.

He kicked it harder and shouted, “Hey! I need to piss! Hey!”

No result. He laid on the ground before the door and began to kick it rhythmically with both feet, repeating his shouted demand until at last, he heard footsteps outside and a jingle of keys. He stood up and backed away from the door, as two men opened it and entered. They were masked, but he recognized one as the man who’d hit him in the warehouse. Without a word, they grabbed him and shoved him toward the drain in the center of the floor. One stood behind him, holding him by the scruff of his neck and the chain of his handcuffs.

“This is a little awkward, fellas, but I can’t go with my hands cuffed like—whoa there!”

The one who’d hit him before unfastened Jesse’s pants and proceeded pull his penis roughly out of his underwear.

 _I guess they’d rather handle my junk than let me loose to take a piss_ , Jesse thought. _I’ll take it as a compliment then_.

“That’s pretty forward, sweetheart,” he said. “You ain’t even bought me dinner yet.”

The man belted him across the face and stood waiting and fuming. Jesse relieved himself into the drain, sighing with exaggerated satisfaction and grinning perversely at his captor, just to irritate the man further. This operation complete, the man refastened his pants and went to the spigot in the wall to wash his hands. The water running along the concrete into the drain reminded Jesse that he was parched and aching with thirst.

“Any chance you wanna let me get a drink?” he asked.

The man stood up, shut off the faucet, and shook his hands out in Jesse’s face, flinging drops of water all over it.

“There is your drink, dog,” he said.

He slapped Jesse’s mouth with his wet hand, then delivered a sharp kick to his groin that made his knees buckle and doubled him over in agony. The two men laughed and exited the room as he writhed on the floor. But the laugh sent shivers of horror down Jesse’s spine. He knew those laughs. They belonged to Genji’s bodyguards. The ones who’d been in the arcade laughing and cheering. The same men who had walked with them to the hot spring, and had accompanied them to the nightclub. The bodyguards had betrayed and abducted Genji, and he’d let it happen. He dragged himself up and sat against the wall for support, tormented by his thirst and the knowledge that the Shimada security personnel had been infiltrated. Hanzo and Commander Reyes and the old master were in grave danger, and there was no way for Jesse to warn them.

After what seemed to be hours, Jesse heard footsteps approaching yet again. More this time. He remained seated as the door swung open and the six masked men who’d taken him entered. Jesse, now aware of their identities, found it easier to pick them out. Hideo and Kazuki were to his left. Maki and the other two, whose names he hadn’t heard, to his right. The man with the robot voice made a sixth, so he must be an Imagawa security official, or even one of the Imagawa family. Jesse glanced around at their faces, then shook his head sadly.

“Traitors,” he said under his breath.

The robot voiced man bent over him and grabbed him by his hair. He reckoned he was getting pretty tired of having his hair pulled.

“What was that, Mr. McCree?” the man hissed.

“I said traitors,” Jesse said loudly, looking past the man at the others. “Y’all betrayed your master to an enemy. I thought you people was all about honor. This ain’t honorable at all.”

The robot voice gave a harsh, rasping laugh, and the other men laughed as well.

“You are very funny, Mr. McCree,” the leader said. “I am their master. These men have kept their oaths to me.”

“Spies, traitors, it’s all the same,” Jesse said. “It’s gainin’ folks’ trust and usin’ it how you ain’t got a right to. It’s still dishonorable.”

The man threw Jesse’s head back against the wall with a sharp thud. Jesse saw stars.

“You know nothing of honor and betrayal,” the man snarled. “You know nothing of what the Shimada dogs have done to me and to my family.”

So he was an Imagawa. Jesse tossed the dice.

“I know Sojiro probably loved that girl more’n you did,” he said. “Throwin’ out a pregnant woman to live on the streets like that. Lettin’ her leave her poor baby and kill herself. Seems to me you’re the one as did a number on your family.”

The man stood above him shaking with wrath. Jesse’s shot had hit home.

He looked the man in the eye. “Ain’t no use blamin’ the old master for your sins, Ichiro.”

The man dragged him to his feet and beat him with a flurry of blows until he fell down again. He kicked him twice in the ribs. Jesse wailed and foamed at the mouth as his ribs cracked, sending lightning bolts of pain searing through his body.

“You know nothing of my sins,” the man growled. The man said something to his guards in Japanese, then he stepped away and stood with his back to them. The guards lifted Jesse into a sitting position, causing him to scream as his broken ribs were stretched and twisted. He lay against the wall bleeding and almost insensible, taking short shallow breaths.

“Compose yourself, Mr. McCree,” the metallic voice said. “We are going to speak with your father.”

There was a pause, then Jesse heard the voice say, “Commander Reyes. We are prepared to relate our demands.” Another brief pause, then someone stuck a phone against Jesse’s face.

“Hey, boss,” he said. “I might be a little late for work tomorrow. I ran into—” Someone slapped his face. “Alright, alright,” he panted. “No need to get ornery.” Another blow to the mouth shut him up.

“So you see, your impudent son is alive,” he heard the robot voice say. Then angrily, “The unrecognized bastard of Shimada Sojiro is also with us. If his father has any interest in retrieving him.”

A pause. A scuffle of feet. Jesse opened his eyes and saw the man leaving the room briskly. So Genji was alive. And he was being held here, too. Jesse’s heart swelled with pity for his young friend, who probably hadn’t been subjected to this kind of treatment before. Jesse had, plenty of times, but he was still miserable. The boy must be absolutely terrified. Jesse hoped they hadn’t beat him, but he knew it was a fool’s hope. He was certain now that this man intended to kill them both, no matter what he said to the commander.

The commander. His father. He shuddered. So the villain had told him. “Your impudent son,” he’d said. Jesse almost laughed at the cruel absurdity of his deepest, most jealousy guarded secret being revealed in that way to the man he loved most in the world. One of the two, anyway. He wondered where his beautiful, black-eyed angel was right now. A lump of grief rose in his throat, choking the unwanted sob that tried to burst from his mouth at the thought that he’d never see that perfect face again. His only hope now was that somehow, Hanzo and Commander Reyes would escape. It was with this thought in his mind that the pain and exhaustion took over at last, and he fell into merciful unconsciousness.

He awoke some time later with a gasp of pain. Someone was prodding him in his broken ribs, harassing the fractured bones with quick, irregular taps. He opened his eyes and thought he’d never been so happy to see anything in his life as he was to see this glowing, overgrown lizard.

“Hey there, lil fella, could you stop that?” He winced as it butted his ribcage with its snout again. “I got beat up pretty good and it hurts somethin’ fierce.”

The thing looked up at him suspiciously, flicking its little tongue, then slunk off his lap onto the floor.

“If you’re here, then your master’s here too, huh?”

The thing eyed him again, and Jesse would have sworn it understood him.

“Where’s he at?”

The tiny dragon stood up on its hind legs, pointing its snout toward the northeastern corner of the ceiling.

“He out there? Up them stairs?”

The thing dropped back down on all fours and swished its tail eagerly. It looked at him again, then scurried toward the door.

“Hold up, buddy, I can’t get out that way!”

It ignored him and passed directly through the heavy steel door as if it weren’t there. Jesse struggled laboriously to his feet and went to the door. He could see nothing from the narrow window-slit. He sat down again, exhausted by the small effort. A few minutes passed, and the little dragon shimmered back in through the closed door, this time followed by its twin. They darted around behind him and before he understood what was happening, his handcuffs had clattered to the floor.

“You clever little fuckers,” he laughed. “I didn’t know y’all could pick locks.”

He took up the cuffs to examine them. They were still locked. It was the bands themselves that had been broken. Gnawed apart. Jesse stared at the destroyed metal in frank disbelief. Hanzo’s tiny dragons had chewed through solid steel handcuffs.

“I’ll be damned,” he said. “You fellas is pretty handy in a pinch, ain’t you. Think you could do anything about that door?”

Both creatures suddenly stood tensely on all fours, tails outstretched and cocking their heads as dogs do when they hear an interesting sound. Quick as lightning, they glided to the center of the room and vanished down the drain. Then Jesse heard footsteps. He scooted up against the wall where he’d been before. There was nothing to be done about the cuffs, so he held them behind his back and leaned on his hands, hoping that would be enough. The door creaked open and Jesse heard two men enter the room. He kept his eyes closed, hoping they’d leave him be. No such luck. One of them kicked his foot, so he opened his eyes and blinked up at them.

“Food,” the man barked. It was the one who’d hit him in the warehouse again. One of those whose names Jesse hadn’t learned. He dropped a tin plate with a dry-looking chunk of white bread on it in front of Jesse. The other filled a plastic cup from the wall spigot and set it by the plate.

“Bread’n water, huh?” Jesse said feebly. “What is this a prison movie?”

Icy stares.

“So, same problem as before, fellas,” he said. “Can’t eat in cuffs. You gonna feed me, too?”

As he’d expected, one of them crouched before him and picked up the chunk of bread. Jesse’s legs caught him in the chest like a kick from a horse, sending him sprawling backward into the other guard. Jesse nearly screamed from the pain. He leapt up, head whirling with agony, and caught hold of the guard’s belt. He yanked a long, black knife from its sheath there and prepared to use it, but suddenly both men fell on their knees and bowed their heads. They knelt there making hand signs that Jesse didn’t recognize, and muttering something that sounded to Jesse like, “lee-you, lee-you.” He whipped around to see the two tiny blue dragons slithering along the floor, approaching with menacing hisses and flicking their forked tongues like vipers. They would have leapt upon the men instantly, but Jesse stopped them with a word.

“Whoa, fellas,” he said. “We ain’t killin’ anyone we don’t have to.”

Both dragons paused and looked up at him, switching their tails impatiently.

“Hey Al,” Jesse said to the one he’d apparently named thus, “you wanna get me those keys? Ed, take our friend’s knife, would you?”

To the astonishment and horror of the guards, the dragons trotted over, snatched the knife and ring of keys, and delivered them to the American, then stood waiting like a pair of obedient dogs. Jesse grinned wickedly at his former captors.

“Well, boys,” he said, “it’s been real nice bein’ y’all’s guest, but I’m afraid I have to skedaddle. I’m gonna lock you in, just in case you get to pinin’ and decide to come after me. Here’s the deal though, gentlemen.” His voice took on a stern, grim edge and his eye glinted. “If you move a muscle or make a single sound to alert your friends, I’ll send Ed and Al right back here and I’ll let ‘em do what they want with you. I reckon that won’t mean readin’ you a bedtime story.”

He looked down at his reptilian friends. “Ain’t that right, fellas?”

Both dragons raised their heads and eyed the guards with deadly intent. One of them growled and snapped, which reduced the men to quivering terror. Then Jesse strode calmly from the room with his little blue allies scampering after him, and locked the door behind them.


	14. The Master of the Imagawa Clan

Commander Reyes, the old master, and Hanzo sat in silence in the back seat of a large, black vehicle. It appeared from the outside to be a Land Cruiser, but was in fact, a heavily armored tactical vehicle, used only to transport the Shimada family members. Reyes had donned his black chest plate and leg guards, but the old master and his son had staunchly refused his requests that they wear body armor. They had also refused to take weapons with them, though Hanzo had left his bow behind reluctantly, only doing so because his father went unarmed. Reyes wore his two large sawed-off shotguns in a custom-made shoulder holster beneath his long, black coat. He didn’t doubt they’d be taken, but he figured they’d distract attention from the polymer-framed CZ7 P-09 concealed in his boot holster. Maybe not. He didn’t need a gun to kill people.

They were within sight of the gates of Imagawa Castle when Hanzo gasped and grabbed his arm.

“What is it, son?” the commander said.

“They have found him,” the boy said, gazing into the middle distance ahead of him. “He has escaped. They are…they are taking him in search of Genji.”

“No, no,” Reyes said, suddenly alarmed. “Tell them to lead him out of there. They need to get him out of the castle.”

“I…I cannot. He has…control of them,” the boy whispered. His eyes darted to his father’s face with a look of panic. “Father what does this mean?”

The old master sighed deeply and shook his head. “It means, my son, that you have…given yourself to him.”

The young archer flushed crimson and tossed his black hair defiantly.

“Your heart, Hanzo,” his father said, smiling at the boy’s apparent mistake. “This young man possesses your heart. Is it not so?”

“It is so, father.”

“Then I hope, for your sake, that he is worthy of such a gift. And for his.”

With that, they disembarked. The driver departed immediately as he had been ordered, and the three men stood before the high walls and massive gate of Imagawa Castle. A detachment of twenty armed guards, black-clothed and black-masked, stood at either side of the gate. They searched the three men and relieved Commander Reyes of his shotguns, but overlooked the pistol in his boot holster. Then the gates were swung slowly and heavily inward, and the three were led into the inner courtyard preceded, flanked, and followed by guards.

The walls of the courtyard were lined with men, all dressed similarly in black clothing and masks, and at the center, stood the leader. He was attired in the same black mask and clothes, but with his hood thrown back to reveal his long, black hair. Behind him were four guards, positioned on either side of a low, wide wooden chair, where a green-haired teenage boy lay against the backrest looking dazedly about him. Jesse, however, was nowhere to be seen.

The leader stepped forward and bowed slightly.

“The master of the Imagawa Clan welcomes the master of the Shimada Clan,” the rasping metal voice said.

“Is that who you are then,” the old master said. He stood tall and proud and did not return the bow. “You have stooped to kidnapping children, Ichiro?”

The robotic voice hissed and scraped with laughter. The leader stepped aside and motioned toward the boy in the chair.

“I was not referring to myself, Sojiro. It is Imagawa Genji, the master of our clan, who welcomes you.” He bowed again. “Imagawa Ichiro is dead. He died by my hand, as he deserved.”

“Who then, are you,” the old master said severely, “to claim the right to name my son the master of your clan.”

The man pulled off the black cloth mask. Beneath it was a metal mask of the same shape, with a row of small, diagonal slits were the mouth would be. With an oddly snakelike twist of the torso, he turned away and pulled off the metal mask, dropping it on the ground with a sharp clank. The face that turned back was the face of a noble, fiercely beautiful woman, shining white in the bright moonlight, which gleamed on her long black hair. 

“Who has better right than me,” she said, her voice now sonorous and musical. “Do you not remember me, Sojiro?”

The commander felt Hanzo’s hand grip his arm, as if the boy felt the need to steady himself.

“Suzume,” the old master said hoarsely. “They said…they said that you were dead.”

“They are often mistaken,” she replied with a cold smile. “They said the same of you.”

“Suzume, why have you returned? Why have you—”

“Enough!” her voice echoed through the courtyard. “I owe you no explanation. I have made my demands clear to you.”

“Then where is my son,” Reyes said, stepping forward. “This was not the agreement.”

The woman’s composure flickered for the briefest instant, but it was enough for the commander. Jesse had escaped, then.

“He is safe,” she said disdainfully. “For now.”

While safe may not have been the word he’d have used to describe it, Jesse was certainly not in the direct danger his friends were in. And he was, in fact, within earshot of the entire interchange. He had followed Al and Ed up a winding staircase to the turreted walls, in order to get a better idea of the layout of the place from overhead. Then a big commotion took place in the courtyard and it suddenly filled with black-clad men. He crept along the fortifications, keeping his eye on what passed below. He had seen his young friend enter with the man who was apparently his mother and seat himself in the chair, then the commander and Hanzo and the old master arrive.

He’d whispered, “There he is, go on,” to his little blue assistants, and they had vanished. At that same moment, Jesse saw Hanzo stagger and lean on the commander as if for support. He had silently dispensed with two patrolling guards using the knives he’d taken from their friends, and was now holding an advantageous position, and a loaded assault rifle, atop the wall surrounding the courtyard.

The woman held out her hand. Genji lifted himself slowly from the chair and took it, standing by her side. She looked about her at the men lining the walls.

“What say you,” she called loudly. “Have you accepted my son, Imagawa Genji, grandson and blood heir to Imagawa Yoichi, to be your master?”

Together as one, the entire throng of men shouted something that sounded like “huah!”

“So you see, Sojiro,” she said in a lower tone. “All you have now to do is recognize him before those assembled here, and abdicate your position to him.”

“Suzume,” the old man said gravely. “I will die first.”

“Sojiro,” she replied, with an acidic smile. “I expected nothing less.”

The woman turned as if to say something to Genji, then suddenly, quicker than sight, she had produced a hidden blade from somewhere on her person and darted across the ten steps to stand before Sojiro. His hands jerked up and took her about the waist. The two stood face to face, looking into each other’s eyes. A strange expression passed over her beautiful face, contorting her delicate features ever so slightly. Then the old master took a step back, staggered, and fell bleeding into the arms of his elder son.

Genji rushed forward with a screaming howl. “Mother! Mother, what have you done! Why have you done this! No! No, my father! My father!”

The woman whipped her body around in that serpentine way and struck him across the face, knocking him to the ground.

“Control your emotions, my son,” she hissed. “I have ridded you of the man who destroyed our lives without mercy or remorse.”

This gave Reyes enough time to grab the pistol from his boot holster and level it at the woman. She sent it sailing from his grasp with a swift kick. Jesse had a clear shot and ached to take it, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to kill Genji’s mother, not even when she’d attacked his father. He held his position and waited.

Hanzo sat on his knees, feeling his father’s warm blood spilling out over his arms and onto the cold ground, where it pooled and seeped between the stones.

“Father, father,” he said. His voice choked and tears ran down his cheeks.

Sojiro reached up his hand and stroked the boy’s pale face, wiping away the tears.

“My son, forgive your brother,” he said. “It is his broken heart that has led him astray.”

As he said these words, something like a red flame kindled beneath his black tunic, rapidly brightening into a fire. All present, Jesse, the commander, Genji, the woman, and her men, stood in hushed awe as brilliant tongues of flame licked upward from Sojiro's body, spreading and intensifying till they took on the form of an enormous, crimson dragon, cloaked in fire.

The assembled soldiers fell to their knees as one, murmuring “Ryuu, Ryuu, Ryuu.”

With a sound like the rush of wind, the dragon soared heavenward, streaking the black night sky with brilliant crimson as it raced to its freedom in the outer sphere. So died the assassin Ryuu, Shimada Sojiro, master of the Shimada clan. Hanzo kissed his father’s cold, white face and lowered him gently to the ground. Then he stood up, tall and proud, to face his father’s murderer. He cast aside his blood-soaked tunic, revealing a massive, intricately detailed tattoo depicting lightning bolts and twining dragons, and covering his left arm from the pectoral muscle all the way to the wrist. Jesse incoherently wondered when he’d had time to get such an elaborate tattoo in the ten or so hours they’d been apart.

The woman brandished her stained blade.

“Test me, boy,” she spat. “I will deal with you in the same way.”

“Silence, woman.” Hanzo’s voice, suddenly powerful and resonant, boomed in the paved courtyard. “I will speak only to the master of the Imagawa clan.”

Genji staggered to his feet.

“Hanzo,” he said, trembling with grief and horror. “Forgive me. Our father—”

“Pay your respects to him,” Hanzo said coldly. “This is the last time you will look upon his face.”

Genji rushed past his mother and fell weeping on the body of his father. Commander Reyes knelt and put his strong arms about the boy. Hanzo turned to the woman. She looked about her, and seeing all her men kneeling and in awe, she backed away toward the chair and stood at bay, still sneering with contempt at the boy before her. The tattoo on the boy’s arm crackled with blue sparks and the inked dragons began to writhe as he pointed his finger at the woman.

Jesse just had time to shout, “No! Hanzo, no!” Then a blue sun rose before his eyes, nearly blinding him. Hanzo said something in Japanese, the only word of which Jesse recognized was “Ryuu.” The rest of the words were drowned in an ear-splitting, unearthly roar, as two dragons the size of freight trains, beautiful and terrible and blazing with blue fire, issued from his hand, twisting and snaking around each other as they barreled forward to meet their foe. Their massive, deadly jaws gaped and they howled like a hurricane as they passed over and through her, moving on without a pause toward the far end of the courtyard. The woman’s lifeless body fell stiffly to the ground and did not move again.

Hanzo stood still, staring after the dragons as they faded and dissolved gradually, leaving the tragic scene to be illuminated only by the pale and sickly moonlight. He grew aware of a sound. What was it? It was Genji. He turned slowly. Genji was struggling against the commander’s iron grip with all his strength, weeping and screaming and beating impotently against the man’s solid arm. Hanzo gazed expressionless on his distraught brother for a moment. Then he turned his back on him.

“Guards!” he barked.

Several men rushed forward from the throng and knelt at his feet.

“Your master is not himself,” Hanzo said. “I will assume management of his affairs until his mourning is complete.”

“Yes, master,” the men murmured.

“Take the body of my father, and bear it with honor to our home. Arrange transport for myself and my friends as well.”

“Yes master.”

“Who among you holds the highest rank?”

The man who had hit Jesse in the warehouse (and apparently had been released from his cell), stood and bowed low to Hanzo.

“Master, I am Tenshi Hiro, I was one of the mas—one of your brother’s bodyguards. I am the senior in rank here.”

“I know you, Tenshi Hiro,” Hanzo said. “You will report directly to me. I assume I can trust you to keep these men in order until I return.”

“Yes, master.”

“Very well. I will return tomorrow to look into your master’s affairs. Instruct your men to do as I have said, Captain Tenshi.”

“Yes master. Master, what of the body of Imagawa Suzume?”

“It matters very little to me,” Hanzo said. “Cast it into the sea, if you so wish. Just remove it from the castle.”

“Yes, master.”

The man took several of his compatriots and hurried off to do as he’d been told. Reyes, still holding the sobbing Genji, looked admiringly up at his young friend. He was astonished at the great change that had come over the boy, who now seemed very much a man, and every bit the master of the Shimada clan, as he now was. He had assumed authority over all these men without hesitation, and they had bent instantly to his will. The piece of deft diplomacy in giving the bodyguard such a promotion was the most impressive bit. Reyes found he had a whole new respect for the young man, who he had taken to be rather soft and naive, and not the obvious choice of heir to a violent criminal empire.

At that moment, Jesse approached with cautious steps, attempting to be as silent as possible.

“Jesse,” the commander said gruffly. “Glad to see you’re alive. Come take care of the kid, would you? I need to call Jack right now.”

“Yes, sir,” Jesse said stiffly.

He avoided the man’s eye as he crouched down to take charge of his teenaged friend. Reyes called Commander Morrison’s sat-phone and getting no answer, left a brief message stating that they had retrieved their agent safely, and that the issue was resolved. In a very few minutes, large black vehicles, much like the one in which the three men had arrived earlier, were driven into the courtyard.

Men draped the body of Sojiro in snowy white linen and lifted him carefully into one of the vehicles. Jesse, the commander, Genji, and Hanzo climbed into the other. Jesse wrapped his arms around the exhausted and grief-stricken Genji, who fell asleep with his head on Jesse’s broad chest. Hanzo sat rigidly upright beside the commander and stared straight ahead. They rode the ten miles home in silence.

Hanzo went directly to the main hall without a word, and Jesse carried Genji to his bedroom. He laid the boy down and pulled off his shoes, then drew the bedclothes over him. The boy stirred and looked pitifully up at him. Jesse sat beside him.

“Hey, Genj,” he said. “I ain’t gonna ask if you’re alright, cause I know you ain’t. But is there anything I can do for you? Anything to help?”

The boy shook his head numbly.

“Genj, I gotta ask you what happened. Why were you with them folks?”

“Jesse I am so sorry. I never meant for things to happen the way they have. My…my mother contacted me. Almost a year ago. I did not believe her tale, but she took me to Imagawa castle and showed me proof of her identity. She said she had killed Ichiro and taken back her command of the clan. But since she had relinquished her rights to him, she could not now assume the official title of master. But she said that I could. She told me of her intent to unite the two clans at last. To put a final end to the century of strife between us. She assured me that my father and brother need only agree to step down and that no harm would come to them. I…I believed her.”

He paused, tears starting down his face again.

“Jesse, Hanzo has been cruel to me and my father has never loved me. But I did not wish to see them harmed. Only to be made to recognize me. I believed I was doing the right thing. My error has cost the lives of my father and my mother.”

“But Genji,” Jesse said, “she lied to you. She used your deepest down feelings to trick you and use you. It ain’t your fault. If my ma suddenly showed up alive, I think I’d believe anything just to have her with me again.”

“No, Jesse. You are much wiser than me.” He sighed. “Hanzo will probably have me imprisoned or executed. I suppose I deserve it. I only hope he will show mercy toward the men I led astray with me.”

“What do you mean, your bodyguards?”

“Yes. I convinced them to join with me in me endeavor. Their loyalty to me was such that they were willing to follow me, even into possible death or exile.”

“I see,” Jesse said, scratching his chin. “Well I guess I shouldn’t have called ‘em a bunch of traitors, then. Only they was pretty rough with me.”

“Oh, Jesse, please forgive me for that. My mother swore to me that you would not be taken. It was only to be myself who was kidnapped at held to ransom. When I saw the men in the club lay hold of you, I attempted to go after you and to stop them, but my guards restrained me, saying that it was necessary to keep you safe with us, and that you would not be harmed. I was too intoxicated to fight with them.”

“I ain’t blamin’ you, Genj,” Jesse said. “But you might want to say a word to your brother on their behalf, if you think you can still trust ‘em.”

“I do,” the boy said emphatically. “They are good men, Jesse. If a bit unwise.”

“Well he don’t seem too bothered about it, seein’ as he put Hiro in charge of the whole Imagawa shebang for now. But Genji, I don’t think it’s fair sayin’ your pa never loved you. It was his own guilt as messed him up about you. It wasn’t anything you did.”

The boy wiped his eyes and looked away.

“I am the cause of his death, Jesse,” he said quietly. “I know I am. My brother will never forgive me. And I will not forgive myself.”

“Your brother will forgive you, Genji,” Jesse said. “I think he’s got more insight into what happened than you think. As to forgivin’ yourself, that’s between you and your god, but I can tell you this: it don’t do anyone no good to torment yourself over things as wasn’t in your control. A lot of people made a lot of choices leadin’ up to what happened and you wasn’t around for most of ‘em.”

“Thank you, Jesse,” the boy said softly.

Then he reached up a hand and touched the American’s kind, handsome face.

“Jesse,” he said with a low, sad sigh. “I wish…that you did not love my brother.”

Jesse took his hand and replaced it gently on his chest. “But I do, Genj. I love him more than my own life and everything in the world put together.”

“I know. Do not let him push you away.”

“Thank you, Genji.”

The boy yawned deeply and turned over, pulling the covers over his head. Jesse stood and glided silently from the room, leaving his friend to find sorrow’s only relief in sleep.

Rather than heading to the main hall, Jesse lingered in the moonlit garden, strolling under the beautiful trees, and eventually winding his way to the tea house. He didn’t want to admit that he was avoiding his lover and his commander, but he was certainly doing so. He dreaded the next conversations he would have with them. The commander, who had certainly learned Jesse was his son, and Hanzo, the new Master of the Shimada clan, who had just seen his father murdered by his brother’s mother, who he had slain in retribution. He rested his elbows on his knees and lit a cigarette to help him think. He found little help in it, and his mind whirled with incoherent, agitated questions and thoughts. He snuffed his cigarette and put the butt in the pack, and then swallowed his fear and strode back to the main hall.

“Hey Jesse,” the commander said as Jesse entered their rooms. He was packing up his body armor and weapons. “I think you’d better go find Hanzo. He probably needs you right now.”

“Yes—yes, sir,” Jesse said timidly.

He turned to exit the room, and suddenly staggered and had to catch himself on the wall. Reyes hurried over and steadied him.

“Are you alright, son?”

“I—I’m in…pain, boss,” Jesse panted. “That woman broke a couple of my ribs and I been runnin’ around all night like they was fine. I’m just about fixin’ to die, I think.”

The commander laughed and shook his head.

“Jesse, you are…a remarkable boy,” he said.

“Am I, boss?”

“Yeah. You are. Let’s get those ribs bandaged up and get some painkillers in you before you pass out.”

Reyes sat jesse on the edge of his bed and pulled his shirt carefully off over his head. Sure enough, Jesse’s upper torso on the left side was swollen and purple with severe bruises. He gave jesse a glass of water and three pills.

“They’re just anti-inflammatories,” he said. “I don’t have anything stronger on me. If you’re hurting bad tomorrow, we’ll see about something else.” 

He wound white bandages securely around the boy’s ribcage, and touched the area gingerly.

“How’s that? Better?”

“Yeah, boss. Thanks.” Jesse looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “Say, boss, can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure, Jesse, what’s up?”

“I don’t have to start callin’ you dad now, do I?”

The commander threw his head back and laughed heartily, then roughed the boy’s hair. He was immensely relieved, and grateful to Jesse for the easy way in which this particular ice had been broken.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “In fact, I insist that you don’t.”

“So, you’d prefer pop?” Jesse said innocently. “Father? Daddy…?”

“You know, I can still beat you.”

“I suppose, but I don’t reckon it’d do much good.”

“None at all, likely. But Jesse, I…” he paused, and appeared to be wavering. “I…think you really should go see Hanzo. I haven’t heard from Jack, so I’m going to try him again.”

Jesse got up to put his shirt on, an operation that proved to be more difficult than it had seemed, and with which he needed help. The commander came and pulled the shirt down for him. He moved to step away, but the boy caught hold of him suddenly, throwing both arms around his waist and burying his face in the man’s chest. His body twitched and shuddered, and the commander realized Jesse was crying. He hesitated, then put his arms carefully around the bruised boy and held him. He laughed as he thought to himself that if he had known how much of this job was going to involve comforting sobbing teenagers, he’d have stayed in the god damned Army.


	15. Vengeance and Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: EXPLICIT SEX
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO WARNING: EXPLICIT FLUFF

The old master’s secretary greeted Jesse somberly at the door to the formal drawing room. 

“Jesse San,” he said, bowing low. “The young master is within.”

He quietly entered the cavernous space. The room was lit only by the orange glow of candles, and the air was thick with some aromatic, spicy incense. The body of Sojiro had been cleaned and carefully dressed in black and red silk, and lay in state on the raised dais before the white stone chair. Hanzo knelt beside it, still wearing his blood-stained white and blue tunic, hair loose from its tie and spilling over his shoulders like a shimmering black waterfall. The beauty and tragedy of the scene smote Jesse’s young heart and tears filled his eyes. He instinctively reached up to remove his hat out of respect for the dead, but it wasn’t there. He’d lost it.

He wasn’t aware of mourning customs in this country, nor did he stop to worry about them. He acted simply from the fullness of his heart. Holding his hands against his breast, he knelt silently beside his beloved, and wept for the death of the young man’s father. After a time, Jesse cast a sidelong glance at his friend. He was pale and haggard, but he did not weep. He only gazed unmoving on his father’s face. Hanzo, perceiving the look, laid his white hand palm upward on Jesse’s knee and Jesse took it. Hanzo pressed it gratefully. They sat that way for a long while, hand in hand in the house of mourning.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said at last. “I am afraid.”

“What are you afraid of, darlin’?”

“I am not prepared for the responsibility that has been so suddenly thrust upon me. I fear I will bring dishonor to my father’s name by my inexperience and lack of wisdom. I fear I am not fit to rule this great house.”

“Hanzo,” Jesse said gravely, “you can do it and you will. Because you simply got to, is all. You’re the only one who can.”

“I know it. And yet I am afraid. My father was a far greater man than I am. How can I hope to replace him as master, when I cannot yet govern even myself.”

“What do you mean?” Jesse asked. “You seemed pretty in control to me. You saw how those men come at your call and jumped to when you said go.”

“I destroyed the murderer of my father in anger, Jesse.”

“That was justice, darlin’.”

“Vengeance and justice are not one in the same.”

“Sometimes they are. You had a violent rabble-rouser on your hands makin’ it known loud and clear she was aimin’ to start a war. It’d be foolishness to let that go unpunished. It wasn’t unjust on account of it was personal, too.”

Hanzo raised his bright black eyes and looked into Jesse’s. “Do you…do you really believe that?”

“Absolutely. You did what you had to do.”

Hanzo bowed his head as if it were burdened with a great weight. “I am weary, Jesse. Weary of doing what I must do. I wish for nothing more than to leave all of this behind me. To…to go with you and become a good man, as you are.”

“But darlin’, you’re in charge here, now. You can change things. You can do more good here, with all these people and resources than you ever could as one soldier in a private military agency, even ours.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Hanzo said, drawing a long, shaky breath. “Indeed, I know you are right. But I do not wish to think of it now. Come with me. Let us leave my father to his rest.”

The two rose and bowed to the old master’s body, and went quietly from the room. As they walked, Jesse realized they were not headed toward the boys’ quarters. Instead, they turned left, passed through a door to a staircase, and went up a long, winding flight of stairs. They ended in a large, airy room. The room indeed, encompassed an entire floor of the main hall’s tall pagoda. It was sparsely but tastefully decorated and lit by white lanterns. The windows on all sides had been thrown open and the fresh night breeze stirred through the space making the entire room seem to breathe softly.

“This is the master’s chamber,” Hanzo said. “It now belongs to me.”

Jesse’s eye strayed to the far end of the room, in which lay a wide bed on a low platform, draped in fresh white linens. A large, gold carving of some kind, depicting two, twining dragons hung on the wall above it. Jesse wondered how the house staff had already had time to make such minute alterations to the décor of the chamber, seeing as the former master had been dead two hours, but he didn’t give voice to this sentiment. Hanzo pulled a red silk cord beside the door.

“Servants will bring tea, if you would like.”

“Sure,” Jesse said. “Thank you.”

Hanzo sat on a cushion before a low table and motioned for Jesse to sit as well. Jesse took a seat on a cushion opposite Hanzo. Before he had completed this action, a knock came at the door and servants entered with a beautiful black stoneware tea service. They bowed low to the young master and exited as swiftly as they had entered. Jesse watched as Hanzo’s graceful hands set out the delicate cups and poured the steaming tea. Jesse took his and sipped it, but Hanzo only held his cup and stared into it, then set it down again.

“Hanzo,” Jesse said cautiously, “about…about your brother—”

“Please, Jesse,” Hanzo interrupted. His voice was soft, but his tone was firm. “I do not wish to speak of this.”

He stood slowly, and Jesse thought, a little unsteadily.

“I must remove these garments and bathe my body. Will you…will you join me?”

“Of course, darlin’,” Jesse said. “But are you sure you don’t want some privacy?”

“I do not wish to be alone. I only wish to feel something other than my grief. Please, remain with me tonight, Jesse.”

Jesse nodded and followed the young man through a door into a large and lavishly appointed bathroom. They passed through another door on its far end, into a small, bamboo-floored room which contained a large, round tub like the mineral baths at the hot springs. The tub was full of steaming water which had some light, pleasing fragrance infused in it.

Hanzo stripped his bloody garments and dropped them on the floor, standing before Jesse naked and unashamed. He was exquisitely beautiful in the soft white glow of the paper-shaded electric lanterns. Jesse perceived that something about him had changed. He seemed more noble, somehow. More lofty. Something that was now high above Jesse, far out of his reach. Jesse found he was afraid to touch him. But the black-eyed angel approached and touched him. He unbuttoned Jesse’s shirt and cast it aside, then began to pull his undershirt up. Jesse gasped and winced, and Hanzo saw the bandages.

“Jesse, you are hurt,” he said, anger sparking in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothin’ much,” Jesse replied. “That uh, woman, she got a little heavy handed when I gave her some lip. My ribs is broke, but I’ll be ok.”

The young man’s face softened. “It was not Genji’s men who did this to you, then?”

“No, no,” Jesse said. “Just the woman.”

Hanzo gently pulled Jesse’s undershirt over his head. He made Jesse sit down on a low bench built into the wall.

“I will re-wrap your bandages later,” he said as he began to carefully unwind the dressing. “The hot mineral bath will be of great help.”

Jesse’s aching body suddenly longed to be submerged in the soothing water. He sat still and obedient as the young master knelt before him and removed his boots, then stood as he was directed, so the rest of his clothing could be removed.

“Come,” Hanzo said, “let me help you in.”

Jesse took his hand and allowed himself to be helped into the tub. He sighed deeply as the hot water immediately began to loosen the knots of pain and tension caused by his injury and long hours of captivity. He gazed at the beautiful boy as he lowered his perfect body into the water before him. Hanzo glided up close and put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders. His naked skin rested against Jesse’s but the weightlessness of the water prevented any pressure from distressing his bruised bones. He watched Jesse’s face intently as Jesse lifted his hand and traced a wet finger along the lines of the intricate tattoo.

“Ain’t that somethin’,” Jesse said in a tone of hushed reverence. “Just appeared there like magic.”

“It is not magic, Jesse. It is supernatural.”

Jesse opened his mouth to reply, but his beloved’s mouth covered his. He gave a low, yearning groan and wrapped his arms around the young master’s lithe, muscular body beneath the steaming water. Hanzo straddled Jesse’s thighs. Jesse felt his lover’s erect penis graze against his. He dropped an arm into the water and took them both in his big hand. Hanzo gasped and his head lolled back, beautifully exposing his smooth, white throat as Jesse stroked them slowly together.

“Jesse,” he murmured, “Jesse, love me.”

“I do love you,” Jesse said. “I love you.”

“Make love to me. I need you to be inside me, Jesse. I–I need you.”

The young man’s tears finally came. Jesse withdrew his hand and pulled the boy close in a tender, compassionate embrace. Hanzo’s head slumped onto Jesse’s shoulder and his body racked with deep, gut-wrenching sobs. His silky black hair trailed into the water and swirled and floated about Jesse’s chest. Jesse held him and wept silently with him. Hanzo lifted his head, his black hair hanging loose and dripping into the water. He looked keenly into Jesse’s eyes.

“Jesse, I need you,” he whispered, almost frantically. “I need you. Please, don’t leave me. Stay here with me. Say you will stay with me, Jesse.”

Jesse gazed wretchedly at his lovely, brokenhearted darling. He thought of his new life and his occupation, the organization he’d sworn service to, and of his father. But Jesse was in love. And who among the best of us could have resisted such a plea.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’,” he said at last. “I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

Hanzo replied with a urgent, searching kiss. He raised himself on his knees and took Jesse firmly in his hand, stroking him back to life. He lowered himself slowly back into Jesse’s lap. Jesse groaned and spread his lover apart with his hands, pushing him down until he was all the way inside him. Hanzo rocked his hips, sliding himself up and down on the shaft of Jesse’s cock. They held each other’s faces in their wet hands and gazed into each other’s eyes as their bodies moved together in the hot water. They came together, kissing and clinging to each other, trembling in unison with their lingering, aching release.

Jesse thought dreamily that this must be what people meant when they said “making love.” Suddenly he didn’t find the term quite so nauseating. Hanzo laid on Jesse’s chest, drowsing in the soothing bath until Jesse began to doze off. He shook the cowboy gently and then helped him out of the tub. He opened a cabinet and retrieved some large, soft towels, with which he carefully dried Jesse’s hair and body before he attended to his own. He took Jesse by the hand and led him to his bed. Jesse sat on its corner, watching adoringly as the strong, capable hands of the archer redressed his battered ribs in fresh bandages. Then Jesse was made to lie down and had the linens drawn up over him, as if he were a child. Hanzo, still naked and still divinely beautiful, went about the room extinguishing the lanterns, till the only light was the pale moonlight pouring in through the open windows.

“Hanzo,” Jesse said, after his archer had laid down beside him at last. “Can I ask you just one thing, and then I won’t say nothin’ about it anymore?”

“Yes.”

“Genji thinks…well, he thinks you’re gonna have him locked up or executed. You ain’t though, right?”

“Of course not.”

With that, the two teenaged lovers, one the hereditary master of a Japanese trade empire, and the other the penniless son of a South Texas waitress, drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

 

Commander Reyes was up before dawn, as was his custom. He was beginning to feel anxious about several things. Foremost in his mind was the lack of response from Jack, and his continued inability to reach him. He should have landed with the assault team by now, and yet no sign of him had appeared. Second was the fact that the Imagawa and Shimada empires had been, for all intents and purposes, united under a single banner, and were still in possession of a weapon that could be used to bring the Overwatch organization to its knees. Jesse’s intimate relationship with the head of this criminal empire did not ease the commander’s mind. He had seen the change in Hanzo when he’d stood forward and assumed command of the men who had moments earlier been his captors. Hanzo would be as formidable a master as Ryuu had been. Maybe more. If Jesse remained at his side, it would be as a companion in a subordinate role, and Reyes doubted Jesse’s opinions would hold much sway with Hanzo against the council of heads of the clan families.

Unaware of Hanzo’s relocation to the master’s suite, the commander went to the boys’ quarters in search of Jesse. He found the place deserted and silent. Even Genji’s room was empty. As he made his way out, he recalled that he had seen what appeared to be an envelope on Genji’s bed as he’d looked in briefly at the door. He hurried back and retrieved it. The words on the envelope and the paper inside were written Japanese characters, which he could not read. He stuffed it into his pocket and went to the main hall.

Ryuu’s former secretary bowed courteously and informed him that the master and his friend had not yet risen. Reyes wanted to go up and wake them. He was politely, yet firmly denied permission to do so. He was invited to eat breakfast and, having nothing better to do while he waited, he accepted. He had finished his breakfast and was sipping his coffee when Hanzo appeared. He bowed and sat down at the head of the table.

“Gabe,” he said. “I apologize for lying in bed so late. I have had a trying ordeal and I was exhausted in mind and body.”

“Jesse still asleep?”

The young master looked demurely away. “He is, yes.”

The commander laughed. “He’ll sleep like a log all god damned day if you let him. Maybe you should send someone to get him up.”

“He is suffering, Gabe. The traitor Imagawa Suzume beat him and fractured his ribs. He is badly in need of what rest he can have.”

“You’re right, son. Of course. But I’d like to talk to him as soon as possible. I still haven’t been able to reach our commander, and he should have been here, or at the very least in touch, by now.”

“That is grave news,” Hanzo said, looking a bit alarmed. “What do you think is the cause of his tardiness?”

Servants appeared and silently laid out tea and various dishes before the young master as he spoke. The commander waited till they had departed.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m concerned that it has something to do with the Imagawa spy in our organization.”

“That would be my concern as well. We will attend to this matter immediately.”

The young master rose, leaving his breakfast untouched, and the commander followed him through the courtyard and down the stairs to the security center. All the men present stood and bowed as Hanzo and the commander entered. The chief of security approached and began to speak to the young master in Japanese. Hanzo held up his hand.

“English, please,” he said. “For the benefit of Commander Reyes. He is still my father’s general in this matter.”

“Yes, master,” the man replied. Then bowing to Reyes, “Commander, I apologize.”

Reyes returned the bow and the man continued.

“Captain Tenshi has reported this morning,” he said. “All is well at Imagawa castle, and the men assembled there await the master’s visit. The body of the traitor, Imagawa Suzume has been incinerated and the ashes cast into the sea.”

“Very well,” Hanzo said. “It would be unwise, I think, to leave the castle entirely occupied by men who have hitherto belonged to the Imagawa clan. Some arrangement must be made to reorganize our forces. In addition, the issue of the Imagawa spy that has infiltrated my friend’s organization yet remains.”

“Yes, master. A detachment of our own men, accompanied by surveillance personnel has been sent to inspect the Imagawa databases. In a short time, we should know all that they contain.”

“Thank you, Chief Tanaka,” Hanzo said. “Gabe, what would you prefer to do? Shall I arrange transport to the castle?”

“Yeah, thank you, Hanzo. I need to get my eyes on whatever they have, asap. You coming?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot. I must summon the heads of all Shimada and Imagawa families. If a council does not meet immediately, we risk fracture and disorder. This is a delicate and precarious time. I must demonstrate my authority as well as my peaceful intentions to the Imagawa family heads without delay.”

“I understand,” the commander replied, a little relieved that he would not have the master looking over his shoulder as he examined the files. His relief was short-lived.

“Chief Tanaka,” Hanzo said, turning back to the security chief, “If you would accompany my friend, I would like to have your expertise at work on this matter, as well. I also think it would be wise to establish your presence at Imagawa castle as soon as possible.”

“Yes, master,” the man said. “Commander Reyes, if you will follow me, we will depart at once.”

The commander moved to go with the man, then recalled the envelope in his pocket.

“Shit,” he said, taking it out. “I forgot about this. I found it in Genji’s room.”

He handed the letter to Hanzo, who read it, then sighed.

“Genji has run away,” he said wearily. “He has chosen to add to his misdeeds, rather than to face them like a man and make amends. This is most distressing.”

“One thing on top of another,” Reyes said. “Should I stay and help look for him?”

“No, Gabe,” Hanzo said. “That is very kind, but your priority must be the immediate threat to your organization. My family’s people will look into this domestic issue.”

“Thanks, Hanzo,” the commander said. “Let me know what you find, alright?”

“Of course.”

They exchanged bows and Reyes followed the security chief out the door.


End file.
